


Arrival

by itachis-sick-ass-mf-sword (driftershiddenfivehead)



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Adventure, Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Romance, Blank Period, Blood and Violence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Consequences, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Fourth Shinobi War, Free Indirect Speech, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Major canon divergence, Mental Health Issues, Nature Versus Nurture, Philosophy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychology, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Redemption, Self-Denial, Some Humor, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Character Death, Time is an Illusion, anti-shinobi-system
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 51,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23564917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driftershiddenfivehead/pseuds/itachis-sick-ass-mf-sword
Summary: Long ago, two Otsutsuki arrived on Earth- one a progenitor, one forgotten- both lurking in the shadows of history. A millennium later, Madara Uchiha revealed his plans in a declaration of war. No one believed him until a third Otsutsuki appeared: a defector who would fight alongside the villages, showing humanity the face of their true enemy. One revelation leads to a revolution of values, and the unraveling of an invisible thread woven through time. The truth changes everything.SLOW TO UPDATE(aka ADHD + uni + art + nonexistent time management)
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto, Hyuuga Neji/Original Female Character(s), Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Kudos: 21





	1. Close Encounters of the Fifth Kind

**Author's Note:**

> 40 chapters is a placeholder estimate. It may be more, or less, and may be split into a series. Regardless, it is going to be very long.
> 
> ADDITIONAL INFO: This story has some heavy themes regarding various philosophical concepts and trauma-related mental illness. A common theme is the concept of "The Monkey's Paw":
> 
> "Fate rules people's lives and those who interfere with fate do so to their sorrow."
> 
> There will be periods of angst, and some brief but extremely heavy angst at a couple points - trigger warnings will be posted with those chapters of course - nothing crazy(like Berserk...holy shit), but common happenings concerning mental illness & trauma response. I don't romanticize and prefer the brutal reality of said illnesses, which is where the warning comes in to play. Violence is canon-typical, but I do describe it with added graphic detail due to this not being a visual medium. It also contains elements of parody.
> 
> Romance is going to be built up some but otherwise scarcely touched upon until after the war - I mention this A) so people are aware of the subplot and B) because it will be part of the main feature, after the first story arc. The story begins in April, after the Five Kage Summit. It will cover the rest of shippuden, the time skip, the new era, and some of the gaps in history.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of a world war, Konoha jonin Neji Hyuga and his trusty sidekicks Wii Sports and Space Buns make a shocking discovery while patrolling the territory surrounding the Hidden Leaf.

**_"The past is just a memory of prior movement and change which animates the future development of the universe and its fate.”_ **

* * *

**Chapter 1: Close Encounters of the Fifth Kind**

**Present - Land of Fire**

Rain pelted against the wooden roof of the small cabin, the loud thrum blocking out all other sounds as he sat and stared out of a squared window. Droplets of water collected on the glass, clinging together and rushing downwards in such a manic expression that it seemed as if they were trying to escape from something. What great terror awaited them that caused even the clouds to shudder and the rain to show fear? The corners of his mouth twitched upwards at such an absurd thought. Many powerful men and beasts had trod the bloodied soil of this planet, yet here he still sat. Bored, and waiting.

An incredible clap of thunder shook the walls and rumbled along the storm front, eliciting a frightened whimper from a figure huddled in the back corner of the room. His nerves tingled with anticipatory rapture as the atmospheric pressure dropped impossibly low, indicating the arrival of his muse. Licking his lips, he stood up and cracked each of his knuckles one by one, groaning from the relieved tension. Turning away from the picturesque chaos, he crossed the room and stood over the bound individual now cowering at his feet. He afforded them a brief moment of pity while he twirled a small black mallet between two fingers, not wanting to disrespect the woman who provided his vessel’s good health; and not for lack of pettiness, but for lack of desire to endure the nagging which would surely follow any mistreatment on his part. 

Instead, he silently dared her to protest. She did not.

_Tap._

Narrow black eyes watched with cold indifference as the body slumped over, a solitary tear dripping down off of her slacked jaw and joining the rain in its pursuit of safety. 

“Tell me, what good are mere Kings when contested by the Gods?”

* * *

Tearing through the forest, she left a trail of broken limbs and deep mud-tracks in the wake of the fury that was blurring the edges of her vision and acidifying her blood. Narrowly avoiding a large boulder, she came to a stop to try and gather her wits. However, her racing thoughts had other objectives in mind.

The gruesome twosome she was looking for had remained elusive for more than a millennium, but they couldn’t hide forever. Not from her, and certainly not from her apocalyptic grudge.

At the moment her pent up emotions were allowed to run rampant, there was nothing left to keep her inner rage from boiling over and incinerating everything within reach. The mind’s eye opened to bring forth the truth from where it hid, a blue sphere of sight emerging from blackened sclera. Two small horns elongated until they were spiraling, deadly appendages capable of extracting agonized screams from whoever dared to venture too close. A red marking on her lower lip blackened and stretched down the center of her chin, continuing across her neck before branching off to cover the rest of her body in geometric patterns. Like a living tattoo, an ominous warning displayed upon her flesh. 

Sharp talons of metal and bone displaced her fingers and toes, the combination of platinum and organic tissue glinting in the darkness. New bone formations split from the back of her rib cage and curled behind her like skeletal wings making sense of her floating form. The rinnegan blinked in her palm, producing a glowing blue Shinken. Gripping the base, she thrust it into the air and released a feral, otherworldly roar. 

A column of lightning struck the sword, called forth by the siren song of salvation.

Obsidian and cyan chakra billowed around her like a cloak, crackling with electricity as the thunder sang out its welcome. An orb of black truth materialized within her palm and she batted it into the earth with the blunt end of the sword. Shock waves of electrified gravity exploded outwards from the point of impact, magnified by the turbulent downpour. The night skies lit up like daytime and nothing could escape being illuminated by her truth. Scorched trees shook violently in its wake, succumbing to their damage and crumbling along with the earth beneath them. Birds flocked to the skies as they fled in terror, narrowly escaping the fate of the flora they nested in. 

The ferocity of the storm was a comfort compared to death’s incarnate, levitating beneath its front.

As if the rain was quenching the fires within, lucidity quelled her mind once again. The demonic transformation rescinded during the next minute, leaving an unassuming young woman to float calmly in its place. The sole survivor of a divine cataclysm. Scolding herself internally, she glanced around to assess the destroyed woodland and large crater of which she was the epicenter. 

"Shit," she cursed. Between her unbecoming language and inappropriate outburst, she could practically feel her father’s relentless, unwavering resentment and hear the vitriol pouring from his mouth and suffocating her small form, filling her lungs until she was drowning in an ocean of hate. Such supreme cruelty and ass-holery seemed to transcend dimensions and space-time itself. 

The King was ruthless, villainous, and corrupted. Pure evil; every cell comprising the disgusting waste of flesh that was his body radiated with malcontent and oppression. For her entire life his insatiable need for power and control had smothered her, entrapping her in a literal prison built from his antagonism. The closest thing to happiness she had ever experienced was a brief childhood friendship with her elder cousin, Kaguya. 

In a time that seemed too dreamlike and distant to have been more than a fantasy, they’d shared a vision. A Will. But once her imprisonment began they saw each other less and less, and eventually Kaguya stopped visiting altogether. What was once a friend had become another cold and disinterested spectator of her mistreatment. 

At some point Kaguya left their planet, presumably having succumbed to her partner’s persuasive words, departing without hesitation to fetch yet more chakra for her tyrannical king. Just another Harvester. 

Now that she’d managed to escape, saying she was anything less than lusting for the blood of everyone who swore fealty to her father would be the understatement of an eternity. She was a victim, a survivor on a path towards redemption. Kaguya and her asshole partner Isshiki were the lucky firsts on her intergalactic shit-list.

Poetic justice could be argued with the fact that Isshiki left Kaguya behind. Karma could be a real bitch. But poetic justice did nothing to sate her appetite for revenge, so her mission was by no means being called off any time soon.

Fuck them and their damned Credo. 

“After I deal with Kaguya and Isshiki I _will_ come for you, father. My sole purpose is to prevent you from ruining more of this universe. Don’t think I am above ending your life. And _when_ I do," she said, pausing to turn her face toward the obscured stars and raising a fist in solidarity. 

"I will piss on your grave, motherfucker!" She screamed, her words fading into an unholy battle cry that ended up sounding more like a screech. 

Torrential rain poured into her open mouth, assaulting the back of her exposed throat and causing her to sputter; in response to which her arms flailed haphazardly, accidentally smacking a hand onto one of the now small horns protruding from her forehead. Hissing in pain, she angrily tugged on her soaked hair, muttering a stream of curses while stomping around in the puddle that had formed under her feet.

For all her people's lineage boasted, and for all she forswore said inheritances, nothing could so greatly assure Aratashiki's true heritage other than the tantrum being thrown at present. Should a genetic inquiry fail to establish relation, a test of patience would not.

"This is the true power of youth!" A voice cried out from the distant tree-line.

Head snapping up, she immediately found the source. If not for being so generally pissed off, she would’ve been embarrassed by the failure to detect any other chakra signatures. For a natural sensor and possessor of powerful Kekkei Mora, it should have been impossible to miss a glaring detail such as the three living beings standing fifty meters ahead. Perhaps she had noticed them, but was too busy groveling in angst to acknowledge it.

That had to be it.

Her ethereal gaze traveled over the three humans - Shinobi, she guessed, judging by the hitai-ates Toneri had told her to watch for - who stood at the edge of the crater. The one who’d spoken was mirroring her raised fist, his strange bushy eyebrows contorted into an expression of chronic and possibly terminal over-enthusiasm. To his right was a muscular woman with chocolate colored buns on either side of her head, mouth agape in abject horror. She wondered how much they saw, fervently hoping they’d missed her unsightly transformation.

The answer stood to the left of the green dude, where a tall man with long black hair and bright violet eyes was staring at her with a mixture of disgust and confusion. 

Damning it all in her mind, she was now certain that they had seen.

* * *

**Land of Fire - Warring States Era**

The orchestrations of battle pervaded the area around him: swords clashed, armor clattered, flesh tore, men grunted and screamed as they ripped the lives out of one another, all-together composing a magnificent and terrifying symphony. Suffocating, the stench of blood and death and earth clung to everything, lingering in the lower atmosphere like a noxious fog. His chest burned as ragged breaths forced their way through the cracked lips of his arid mouth, desperate to gather more oxygen for his aching lungs and tired muscles. If he paused for even a moment he would surely collapse from exhaustion; it is always harder to start moving again than to keep doing so without stopping in the first place.

Izuna Uchiha had never felt more alive.

Dipping underneath and dodging around the pointed blows of his enemies with ease, Izuna displayed his impressive skill and expertise in taijutsu even without the employ of his sharingan. Using his katana, he cut down the Senju’s men left and right, the blade becoming a vessel for his hatred of the rival clan. Blood sprayed across his face and wet his black hair as he slit the throat of the shinobi unfortunate enough to wind up in front of him. He licked his lips to taste the mess he’d created, grinning victoriously while he watched the body collapse, the partially decapitated head of that poor Senju fool bouncing against the rocks as it fell. Lifeless eyes stared into the sky, and for a brief moment Izuna wondered what it was the dead were seeing, why they were always looking up.

A flash of white hair caught his attention, coaxing him back into the fray of combat. Metallic ringing filled his ears when his blade clanged against Tobirama Senju’s ninjatō, the sound resonating high-pitched and clear like a bell used to signal the beginning of a spar - yet this was far from a duel between comrades. 

The rest of the world faded from perception, giving way to a deafening silence; violence and instinct took over Izuna’s mind and body while he fought ferociously against his sworn nemesis. Sharingan crimson challenged albino red, gazes locked as they danced around death, with the guided elegance in each step accentuated by the melodic cries of their fallen clansmen. Shadows being all that remained of the aforementioned men around them, a lone figure in Izuna’s periphery jutted out from the mist, snaring his attention like a feline beast latching onto the throat of unsuspecting prey, and-

**_The God in the Moon must come down soon._ **

Eyes snapped to the horizon at the behest of the stranger’s cryptic, nonsensical voice inside of his head. It was night. The stars winked down at him in sinister flirtations; the unknown beckoning with the long, curling claws of a predator. Only a moment ago it was mid-morning; how long had he been fighting? It was a relief to find reprieve - always fighting, they were always fighting. He was tired of fighting, he decided; tired of funerals, tired of falling asleep to the wails of bereaved mothers as they held tight the cold remains of their slaughtered children, tired of the haunted looks in his relative’s eyes, the same look his own bore; tired of council meetings filled with hopeless optimism, of frivolous desires for a peace that would either never come or if it did, would never last. 

The battlefield was again devoid of sound or motion, the air stagnant and chilled. Warmth pooled around him, thick with the metallic scent of hemoglobin as it bombarded his olfactory senses with particulate erythrocytes. Blood. His blood, spilling from the mutilated clump of tissue that was formerly his abdomen, cradling his body as it grew cold. 

Confusing at first; what weapon would cause such a mess? Surely the sleek form of a steel sword would not. A faint twitch of his fingers brought with it the realization that the hand preceding them was entangled within the wound, bound to it by the gristle and sinew viciously torn from his entrails, as if he had been mutilating his own-

Blinking at the night sky, his mind suddenly cleared of all previous thought; there was no pain, his nervous system had long since gone into and beyond hypovolemic shock. The Moon swallowed his vision and consumed his soul. His everything. Madara. His brother. The God; the Moon. He stopped the God, didn’t he - he sure hoped so. Or was it the other way around? 

Madara and the Moon. The only two things that mattered. His everything.

The night was dark. Too dark. Oh, God, oh god when did the sky become so dark?

He was unable to look away from its omnipotent gaze. Blood red, swirling with rings, swimming with tomoe. _Ichi, ni, san, shi, go, roku, shichi, hachi, kyu_ ; he counted nine magatama. It was divine, complete, final: the Moon will take care of him, of everyone. The alpha and omega, the first and the last, the beginning and - and it is everything, nothing. It is infinite. 

Izuna understands now, why the dead are always looking up. He sees it, too.

* * *

**Present - Konohagakure**

Aratashiki and the three shinobi arrived at their so-called village less than an hour later. She was unimpressed, to say the least. The village sat in the center of what seemed to be a massive crater. A wide road cut through the middle, surrounded by newly constructed buildings. The buildings were mostly small and wooden, with some larger constructs in progress. Practically everything was wood, now that she looked closer. Did they not have other materials? What a massive fire hazard, perhaps that’s why the country was named what it was. 

Her eyes were drawn to a mountain just beyond the far edge of the crater, where the faces of four men and one woman had been sculpted into the rock. judging the people below with their stony eyes and upturned noses.

“What happened here? Do all of your mountains have faces?” she asked, stopping to take in the sorry state of their home.

“You’re not in a position to be asking questions,” Neji replied, applying pressure to the kunai at her back to get them moving again. They both knew that what he said was bullshit- given what he had just seen- but he honestly didn’t know what else to tell her in this fucked situation they’d gotten into.

Aratashiki huffed in annoyance but stopped her questioning for the moment and subtly turned her palms towards the ground. “Fine, I’ll just see for myself.” 

In true ignoramus fashion, she wasted an ass-load of chakra searching through their timeline until she found the thing that had caused such destruction. An emaciated, red-haired dude controlling six emo-looking ginger-haired corpses as if they were puppets had leveled the entire village using an attack that was strikingly similar to one of her own abilities. However, he was stopped by another dude who had the complexion of a tennis ball and three massive, amphibious companions. And no, the brightly-colored defender did not beat their attacker by using chakra abilities to overpower them, but rather with an emotional monologue in which he pointed out the hypocrisy of the red-haired villain. The guy had a good message, but the success of it all was a bit absurd; such a thing had only seemed possible to her within the throes of some fantastical dream. Witnessing the success of a non-violent resolution almost gave Aratashiki hope. Angry skeleton-man’s eyes, however, were a point of interest. 

‘Pain’. The image of a human with the rinnegan - a Kekkei Mora characteristic of her own species - filled Aratashiki's mind. He had even mastered control over the human spiritual realm, as evidenced by his redemption via the resurrection of those he had killed during the assault; but it seems Pain lacked the chakra to survive the use of this ability. Such was often the nature of performing an act of God. Very intriguing, this was to her; perhaps there is more to this species than meets the eye, if they can evolve that particular Dojutsu. She knew there was a reason she felt drawn to them, other than being one of the numerous targets of her clan. 

She nearly collapsed from exhaustion, the insides of her skull battered by the brief but explosive migraine that always accompanied the use of her time-related abilities. With Tenten now supporting her arms to keep her upright, the group guided - or rather, dragged - Aratashiki off of the main road towards a small wooden home set apart from the rest. As in, located away from them. It was just as drab and rushed-looking as the rest; not that she could blame them for the hurried construction, after witnessing the cause behind their _need_ to rebuild so quickly. But really, who puts their leader in such shabby lodgings? It seemed disrespectful to Aratashiki, but perhaps that was just the brainwashing of her own culture - in which they worshiped the Emperor as a God of Gods - speaking. An idolization that, perhaps, was detrimental in many ways. 

The exterior of the cabin was surrounded by several serious looking shinobi, who tensed and withdrew their weapons upon the group’s approach. Aratashiki was too tired to bother with trying to assess their abilities, but she did pick up on their anxiety. One thing she was starting to notice about humans is that they are very blatant and open about their emotions; compared to her own people, it was as if some of them thought out-loud. The Otsutsuki, by contrast, had a standardized practice of repressing their own thoughts and emotions using a psychic ward of sorts, and did so specifically to guard against empaths and unwanted telepathic communications. This method was so essential to them that it was taught as soon as a child began their education.

“We must speak with Lady Hokage urgently!” Lee said, raising his hands up as if to calm the guards. Unfortunately, Lee couldn’t have calmed down a rock even if his life depended on it. 

As expected, the guards did not stand down. Just as Aratashiki opened her mouth to speak, a young woman with short black hair and a small pink animal in her arms stepped out from behind a curtain covering the entry. Aratashiki had never seen something exactly like the tiny beast; at first she thought it might have been a hog, but surely a hog could never be so adorable. The creature in her arms squealed in terror, and the woman holding it startled in reaction to Aratashiki's foreign appearance. She began frantically swatting the multicolored fabric-curtain covering the doorway, not taking her eyes off of the visitor for a single second as she did so. 

"Lady Tsunade! Lady Tsunade, I think you should see this...person!" 

An annoyed voice grumbled from within the hut. "Shizune, just bring them to me, dammit!"

The naivety of her suggestion surprised Aratashiki. Was it not both reckless and dangerous for a leader to suggest bringing a complete stranger and potential threat directly into their quarters? It was something Junichiro would do, but only because - as far as he was concerned - he’d never encountered a legitimate threat. 

"Uh, y-yes Lady Tsunade!" The woman, Shizune, approached their group cautiously, the dark material of her kimono rustling slightly as she stopped a safe distance away from Aratashiki. A _very_ safe distance, seeing as she had only taken three steps; it was almost offensive. Really, Aratashiki did not think she was scary looking, especially when compared to the vast majority of her clansmen. There certainly were some unfortunate looking individuals, to say the least. Shizune finally tore her eyes away and addressed her captors. "Neji, bring her inside. Tenten, Lee- please go and find Kakashi. Hurry!" 

The latter two scurried off to find this mysterious 'scarecrow' person while Neji forced Aratashiki to walk forwards again. Shizune held the curtain open for them, leaning as far away from the guest as possible when they entered. A blonde woman with a large bosom and a small, purple rhombus marking on her forehead sat behind a low wooden table, empty ramen bowls piled high on either side of her. It seemed like she had just rolled out of bed and binged on several weeks worth of meals. Two guards were positioned at both ends of the room, each with their hand over their weapon pouches; one of them looked at her with particular disdain, with a senbon sticking out of his mouth. Aratashiki cringed, imagining him swallowing it by accident.

Using her sensory abilities, she examined the blonde figure in front of her. From what she could tell this woman had impressive chakra for a human; she was definitely their leader. That mark on her forehead almost looked like karma, and it seemed to be connected to her chakra pathways as well. Aratashiki wondered if human breast size was related to their chakra reserves; to investigate she would need to use her byakugan, and that would likely put the humans on edge.

Tsunade’s large brown eyes finally looked in her direction, widening when they tried to comprehend what she was seeing and, more specifically, what she had just heard. Whoever this person was had a lot of guts saying exactly what was on their mind. Who does that?

Paralyzed with fear, Aratashiki came to the horrific realization that she had been thinking out loud.

An unfortunate side effect of being held in solitary confinement for _years_.

Shizune, Neji, and Tsunade all gaped at her in disbelief as she started to blush from embarrassment. Neji coughed, fumbling his kunai and dropping it onto the floor where it landed with a soft thud; the man chewing on a senbon nearly did swallow the needle-like weapon. The sound of Neji’s kunai hitting the floor seemed to dispel Tsunade’s shock, and she threw her head back to let out a loud cackle - clutching at her sides and knocking over several of the bowls in the process. Shizune giggled nervously, while Neji remained completely silent and stood as stiff as a board. 

The distress emanating from the young man nearly drowned out the playful aura surrounding his Hokage, which was confusing to Aratashiki. Perhaps Neji had an aversion to breasts, she thought. After a few moments Tsunade regained control of her breathing and settled down, fanning her face while looking up at Aratashiki. 

"Who - no, what - the hell are you?" She asked. 

"I am High Priestess Aratashiki Otsutsuki, daughter of Emperor Junichiro Otsutsuki of the Otsutsuki clan. I am here to inquire about the whereabouts of a clansmen named Kaguya Otsutsuki, who disappeared after being sent to Earth." She finished her painfully flowery introduction with a deep bow of respect, praying that no secret doors had opened up in its wake. 

Best to stick to formalities, Aratashiki thought, on the off-chance that they’d already endured the misfortune of being made cognizant of her people’s existence. 

"Hmm, and what exactly are your intentions?" 

Clearing her throat, Aratashiki repeated her earlier statement. "As I said, Hokage-sama, I simply wish to locate my fellow clansmen, Kaguya. I neither intend to nor am I interested in harming you and your people. Forgive me for saying this, but if that _were_ my intention you would already be long dead." 

Misinterpreting her words as a threat, the two guards withdrew their weapons and advanced towards Aratashiki. Oops. At times she had a way with words, and at other times not so much. When it came to the shit she came up with, the odds were good but the goods were odd. She referred to the phenomenon as her ‘curse of stupidity’, and it usually activated whenever she was extremely nervous. 

Tsunade stood, holding out her arms to halt their advance. “Stand down - Genma, Iwashi.” 

Both shinobi stopped, but did not retreat to their earlier positions or stow their weapons. The tense silence that followed Tsunade’s order was only broken when a grey-haired man with a mask covering half of his face stepped into the room. Immediately, Aratashiki felt a douchebag vibe from him. The arrogant kind. Aratashiki’s gaze latched onto the man, taking notice of the Sharingan in his left eye - a comparatively weak derivative of the Rinnegan - that seemed to be an artificial addition to his original biology; Aratashiki wondered if their species dabbled in biomedical enhancements as well. When their eyes met she opened her mouth to question him about it, but was cut off by Tsunade. A blessing, as she was probably bound to say something divisive.

“Kakashi, thank you for coming on such short notice. Everyone else, out!” Shizune and the guards began to leave, and Neji’s presence behind Aratashiki retreated as he tried to escape. “Not you, Neji. Stay here.” 

Squashing his discontent Neji gave a short bow, resuming his position slightly behind and to the side of Aratashiki. She cursed to herself, suddenly remembering the state of her appearance and feeling self-conscious.

She couldn’t negotiate with potential allies looking like this - what a disaster that would be! She should just...no, she shouldn’t. No. At this rate she was going to be out of chakra, as she hadn’t yet regenerated the energy wasted by her previous activities, making her vulnerable to an attack. Fuck it all, she decided. She really ought to clean up a bit.

Tsunade began speaking again, addressing the newcomer Kakashi. “This is-”

Twitching her fingers discreetly, Aratashiki blinked rapidly to manifest her rinnegan and slowed time to an infinitesimal crawl. Letting loose a dramatic sigh, she quickly rolled out her tense shoulders, needing to hurry before her chakra was dangerously depleted. She created a specular reflection of herself by gathering moisture from the air and pooling it into a smooth surface, and examined the state of her being.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve been looking so ratché this entire time…”

Heat rose to her cheeks as a fresh wave of embarrassment set in. Her hair was dry, tinted yellow-brown from dirt and kami knew what else, and her braid was lopsided. There was blood smeared on her horn from when her hand whacked it as well. She brought the hand in question up to her face for inspection, but the wound was already healed. Looking down, she saw that mud had caked onto her bare feet and legs, and the pale blue kimono she adorned was now tattered and stained. 

What a great first impression she was making.

Raising her arm to her face, she gave it a good sniff and recoiled from the pungent odor of ozone and charred earth.

Kaguya would never have let herself look this bad, and she refused to be one-upped by someone like her, whom she believed to be a harlot.

Aratashiki did an impromptu jumpy-dance to motivate herself and then got to work, using more moisture from the air to scrub the grime and dirt out of her skin and hair. Now clean and wet, she gathered heated chakra around her hands and used it to dry everything out. Consulting her reflection for support, Aratashiki wove her hair into a much more elegant braid than the first. The kimono was still a disaster, but so was her life thus far. Besides, maybe it would make her look tough and relatable, or something.

Feeling much cleaner and satisfied well-enough with her appearance, Aratashiki blinked and returned time to its usual pace while trying not to let her renewed exhaustion show, making sure to conceal her rinnegan once again in favor of her ‘default’ irises.

“-Aratashiki Otsutsuki….” Tsunade stopped and they all stared at Aratashiki, who was smiling innocently. 

Seizing the conversation before any comments were made regarding how and when she took an imperceptible shower, Aratashiki turned to the man named Kakashi. “I see you possess the sharingan. Are you a descendant of Kaguya as well?” 

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, but did not answer. Instead, he turned to Tsunade, the two exchanging a knowing look. “Absolutely no one can know about this, especially not outside of the village. Not until we know more.”

“I know. This has to remain completely confidential,” Tsunade replied, with a pointed glance towards the young Hyuga in the room. “And, there is only one other village official with any knowledge on the ‘Otsutsuki’ clan that Madara spoke of at the summit.” Their gazes turned simultaneously and landed on Neji, who was confused and becoming more agitated with each passing minute.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what I have to do with any of this,” Neji stated. 

Aratashiki was relieved by the prospect of at least _one_ of these human clans having knowledge of their ancestry.

“Not you,” Tsunade said, folding her hands together and resting her chin on top of them. “Your Uncle.”


	2. Flex Seal no Jutsu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aratashiki strikes a deal with the village leaders. Some insight into the nature of the Otsutsuki's mortality, and Aratashiki's past. Neji is pestered. The seal is placed. Let the bodies hit the floor.
> 
> The seal will get an actual explanation at the end of the next chapter. Don't worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so just to clarify: If I do NOT specify the time/place after a line break, assume that it is the same time period and the same general location as the previous section. I'm only going to label significant changes in time and location. So like, I'm not gonna say "a few hours later" and stuff. This isn't spongebob.

**_"When we think of time frozen we visualize it as everything in the universe being still, in a state of stasis- the cessation of entropy."_ **

* * *

**Chapter 2: Flex Seal no Jutsu**

Aratashiki, Tsunade, Kakashi, Neji, and the leader of the Hyuga clan- Hiashi Hyuga- sat around the low, wooden table. The large pile of bowls had been cleared away, and a bitter green tea was served to each of them atop the now-clean piece of furniture. The others listened intently while Aratashiki told them of the clansmen she sought after and of the creed her people lived by. 

“Until recently, the Sage of Six Paths was thought to be a mere legend. With your appearance now, we can be certain it is not,” Hiashi stated.

“Kaguya was sent to harvest a chakra fruit and bring it back to my father. She abandoned the mission and, from what I gather, procreated with a human. I do know that Hagoromo had a brother named Hamura who lived on your moon. I met his descendant, Toneri, there.” Aratashiki told them. 

‘Met’ was a generous way to describe the encounter. As for what had _actually_ happened - Aratashiki simply held him by the throat while asking all of the wrong questions. She asked who he was, then she asked who Hamura was, and then she asked where Kaguya was. Toneri claimed ignorance, so she told him to ‘describe humans in three sentences or less’, and then left. His response: tan, idealistic, heterogenous. So far he had been correct, especially about the ‘tan’ bit.

Tsunade sipped her tea thoughtfully, if such a thing was possible. “So there are more like you, here on earth?” 

“Only myself and Kaguya, as far as I know. There was supposed to be another accompanying her, but he apparently vanished long ago - before even Kaguya began her work.”

Isshiki, her eldest sibling, was an arrogant coward. What a relief it was for her to find no sign of that jackass. Aratashiki wasn’t sure she had the mental or emotional capacity to deal with both him and Kaguya at once. She would go insane, trying to process their betrayals simultaneously.

“And what of this chakra fruit?” Hiashi asked.

“Well, assuming she ate the fruit, she would have become extremely powerful. On par with the main branch and myself. I am surprised you have not heard much of her, as she is not the type to sit back quietly. There must be something I am missing.” 

“She’s a dramatic cunt” was what Aratashiki wanted to say. Spending so much time with Aratashiki’s most despised sibling - who shall not be named, because she refused to show so much respect as to give him such dignity - Kaguya had unfortunately picked up some of his melodramatic tendencies. 

Hiashi hummed in agreement, his gaze momentarily flickering towards Neji. “There is very little written about her; a singular mention of her name in my own family’s records, citing her as a common ancestor with several other clans. It seems there is a great deal else that we do not know.” 

In reality, Tsunade and Kakashi were the only ones among the gathering who _had_ heard all of this before. It lined up exactly with what Madara Uchiha had told Kakashi and the other Kage during their summit, which Kakashi had relayed to her upon waking from her coma. At the time the plan sounded ludicrous, and none of them believed the man. They knew of other realms, of course, as witnessed by the homes of various summoning creatures; but the idea of an alien from another planet was scarcely thought about, and never discussed except among kooks and the odd artist or fiction author. Now, her and Kakashi were starting to have doubts. However, Tsunade wasn’t going to mention any of that to their new visitor until she was absolutely certain the young woman could be trusted. If said trust came to a state of confirmation, then Tsuande would have her witness to the other Kage when the time was right. Ideally at the next possible chance to do so.

* * *

_“I’m not running away, so no need to act all gangster. You’re just slow.” The woman rolled her eyes and continued moving._

_“You don’t even know where the village is,” Neji reminded her, jogging to catch up and seizing her bound arms once again. He pressed the sharp edge of a kunai against the skin at the base of her spine as a meek deterrent of further dissent._

_“And? I’m a sensor, it can’t be too hard to find.”_

_“Then by all means, lead the way. The village we are heading for is called Konohagakure; the largest in the Land of Fire.”_

_“Wow, what a creative name for a village. Only a genius could come up with such an incredible reference to a place surrounded by kilometres of forest.” Her voice was thick with sarcasm as she rambled on. “And for a supposed land of fire, it sure is pretty wet; the name seems more fitting for a desert. Oh-ho-ho, I’d bet my third eyeball that you have a desert village ‘hidden by the sand’ as well. Or a mountain society ‘hidden by clouds’.”_

_She began to laugh at the idea, and Neji spoke nothing of her correctness, irritated by her trivialization of the great shinobi villages._

The events of the past few hours replayed themselves on a loop in Neji’s mind as he struggled to come to grips with reality. An extraterrestrial, a being from a different planet, perhaps even a different galaxy - _were_ there other galaxies? - he had never considered such an idea except to make fun of those who did, and certainly he had never entertained the notion that he would meet one personally. Terror had never gripped him so tightly as it did when he first stumbled upon that earlier scene, drawn to the area by the sounds of a mighty beast rampaging through the forest:

A demon, a harbinger of death hovered above the trees. He watched alongside his comrades, awestruck and petrified, as they witnessed its gruesome transformation come to completion. They continued to watch as it commanded the storm; the earth shaking in fear, the forest stricken and desperate to escape its wrath. They watched still as the creature changed and was replaced by an angry woman, who looked to be around the same age as himself, began stomping around and vowing to seek vengeance against those who had hurt her. 

She was mesmerizing; she also had an obnoxious personality, and had teased him the entire way back to the village. Neji had never guessed himself to be drawn to someone so...boisterous. A beautiful nightmare.

“How do we know we can trust you?” Tsunade asked, pulling his thoughts back to the present.

“I haven’t killed you yet,” Aratashiki responded, like it was the most rational answer to give. 

“Okay... _yet_. What’s stopping you from killing us as soon as I finish this sentence? Or conclude this meeting?” 

“You’ll just have to take my word for it, I guess.” She shrugged, unsure of what else to tell them. 

“That isn’t worth much,” Kakashi interjected. He feigned disinterest to everyone else, but his judgemental attitude was less-thoroughly obscured from an empath. So far, he was the third human she’d met who actively suppressed their emotions - aside from Neji and Hiashi - and the most successful. 

“Well, forgive me,” Aratashiki retorted. “But I can’t offer anything else because I don’t know what I need to do for you to trust me. I’m not familiar with your customs.”

Thinking once again of their first encounter, Neji remembered the immense chakra he had sensed from her, and the destructive powers she wielded with his entire team as witnesses. They’d been on autopilot from there on out; she confronted them, and he responded the same way he would to any other hostile trespasser. He had to apprehend her, and then they would all return to the village to have the authorities deal with it. Neji had been shocked when she agreed, requesting that they take her to their leader. When he bound her with threads of his own chakra she offered no resistance, remaining peaceful - although a bit sardonic - for the duration of their return trip.

“I know you all can feel her power. She could have killed us out in the forest. Demolished the woodlands, my team, and ran away afterwards. You all would be none the wiser, left to wonder what had happened, what our fate had been. But she didn’t. Kilometres of our territory had been annihilated - but she exhausted herself to repair all of it, and not a trace of damage remains. When we confronted her she didn’t try to escape, and willingly returned here with us.” 

Neji spoke quietly - but with a great deal of sincerity - from his seat between herself and Hiashi. Aratashiki turned her head towards the shinobi, clearly perplexed as to why he would actually back her up, and briefly met his eyes. He could see her thanks, her gratitude mixed in with her surprise. A spark of electricity shot up his spine and they both looked away quickly, having both grown uncomfortable due to the extended eye-contact..

“As I said, I come in peace. I do not enjoy killing, nor do I enjoy _subjugation_ ; I rebelled against my father and clan by coming here. I was even friends with Kaguya once, but he took that from me along with the past eight years of my life; not that she wasn’t complicit in it all. He almost took my sanity, too. This is what he does; Ju-ni-chi-ro, ‘he who takes’. I refuse to submit to his tyranny, and I will not return to it.” 

Watching her discreetly as she spoke, Neji noticed for the first time the profound sadness behind her striking eyes. She almost seemed unaware of it, though, which he thought was odd. Much to his confoundment, he actually felt a sense of solidarity with this strange being; both seemingly bound to a fate they did not choose, both seeking to escape from their oppressors; perhaps to even turn the tide against them as well. It made Neji wonder if he had acted this passionately around others after breaking free from his own vice. The conviction with which she spoke stirred up emotions inside of his chest, things he’d never particularly cared to feel, and he found himself starting to blush; due to what, he couldn’t be sure. Dismissing his thoughts, Neji fought back the urge for any further adulation. He was never the romantic type, anyways - not that praise was inherently romantic.

The room plunged into silence, the poignancy of her words affecting each of the others just as it had himself.

“That is a noble disposition, Aratashiki-san. However, due to the apparent power and unknown abilities you possess, we must regard you as a potentially lethal entity.” 

Aratashiki stared at her lap, thinking. “I can offer you a compromise, then. My father - I mean, Junichiro - developed a certain sealing technique. It is used to subjugate clan members who defect, or who threaten his power.”

All heads were turned towards her, listening expectantly. Her voice shook, unable to mask the emotion she felt. “You must understand, before I go on, the gravity of what I am offering.”

* * *

**One Year Ago - Unknown Dimension**

White, blinding light. It stretched on for eternity, the silence never-ending, the solitude overwhelming. Alone as a god, alone as a mortal. Trapped in a dimension constructed by her father, waiting for the day of her release that never would come. 

Touching the skin on her back, she traced the lines of an invisible seal; the terms of her imprisonment. With approximately ninety percent of her chakra locked behind a series of inner gates, most of her abilities were useless. Not even her rinnegan could offer an escape from the dimension she is in - she did not know where this place was, so trying to leave would kill her due to overexertion. She lacked the chakra required to find her way back home.

_Home._

No, she had no home. That place, Ordinance, the first planet of her civilization, was not her home. Those people were not her family. She had no one. This is the way it was, the way it always would be. 

The Six Elements Sefirot Prison. A torture device invented by her father, a way for him to ensure that none surpassed his authority. The nature of the fuinjutsu was such that only the caster could release the seal. Until he decided to do so, she was helpless. Bound forever. The worst part of it all was that he’d made sure she couldn’t die, either. 

Main branch Otsutsuki possessed an oversoul, a mirror of their spirit and consciousness. It was a repository of sorts, stored within Ainsov - the Infinite, a place beyond reality - where it was untouchable by all known entities save for two: her father, and herself. Her mother as well, but she was long dead. The rest of their people had mortal physical bodies that lived long lives but eventually succumbed to age.

When their physical bodies died, they remained spiritually immortal, and could inhabit a new physical body after their death if their will was strong enough to overpower that of the target vessel’s. This type of possession had only ever allowed control over the mind, though; the Otsutsuki would not have access to their previous chakra, and were limited to the abilities of the body they operated within.

However, should one be killed before their time, the oversoul _could_ grant them physical immortality through the use of Kāma - Karma - and they could continue to live and use their own chakra. This sealing technique was invented by emperor Junichiro, and is only taught to the strongest main-branch clansmen whom he deems worthy.

Unfortunately, this included her brothers. 

Karma is a curse mark bestowed upon a living organism after they have killed an Otsutsuki. The mark was not a guarantee, though, and only appeared if the dying Otsutsuki wished it to be so. Hence the name, Karma: the spiritual principle of cause and effect where intent and actions of an individual influence the future of that individual. This mark allows the user to wield and master the Otsutsuki’s chakra and abilities, at the cost of their own individuality. 

The Karma will slowly dissipate throughout the body and overwrite the individual’s DNA with that of the Otsutsuki who bestowed the mark. If said person’s body is strong enough, then once the process completes they will become a perfect vessel; a perfect Otsutsuki. However, such a thing is very difficult, and as of yet no lifeforms have been found that were able to survive the full powers of a resurrected Otsutsuki. The chakra was too immense and the toll on the body from its use too great, so the vessels eventually succumbed to fatal wounds and tissue damage. Since Karma’s inception - which occurred during Aratashiki’s early childhood - no Otsutsuki has achieved perfection. 

Immortality is synonymous with perfection in the eyes of their people. This was the promise of Karma. A chance to join their Emperor and High Priestess as both physical and spiritual immortals. 

The seal she bore was the antithesis to her nature. By tethering her oversoul to her physical body, to reality, she became mortal. For this reason, she failed to comprehend _why_ Junichiro was doing this to her. Why make her suffer when he could just as easily grant her a final death?

Death became her only salvation, an end to this torture - and she longed for it every day. 

Yet a small flicker of hope burned in her mind that refused her such an indulgence; if there was even a chance of her escaping, then to commit suicide would be a fool’s errand. Here, in this prison, she would not die of natural causes. Time did not exist here - she had an infinite window of opportunity to find a way out. For a while her body had aged, but stopped once she reached maturity and adulthood. She was never hungry, never thirsty, never sick, never tired. The nature of her paracausal ability was such that she could dip in and out of the river of time, bending its current to her will, but in a place where time didn’t exist this power could not be exercised. Her remaining chakra could be used in this dimension, and she did train the few jutsu she could still perform, but none were useful for an escape. 

Nothing. There was nothing. Only herself, her thoughts, and the perpetual white light.

* * *

**Present - Konohagakure**

“It is called the Six Elements Sefirot Prison. It seals away ninety percent of the receiver's chakra. For most users, it render’s all abilities other than their primary kekkei-genkai useless, as they lack the chakra required to wield them properly. If the recipient dies, the caster retains a small portion of the sealed chakra. The seal can only be broken by the caster.”

“Six elements....what is the sixth element?” This time it was Kakashi who asked the question. He thought she could mean Yin and Yang chakra, but there was no telling with a supposed extraterrestrial.

Aratashiki took another breath before elaborating. “Main branch Otsutsuki possess what we call an ‘oversoul’. Think of it as a repository, or a backup, of your spirit and consciousness. The oversouls exist as forms outside of reality; don’t bother trying to imagine this, it’s literally impossible. We call this place ‘Ainsov’, the Infinite. So long as our oversoul remains in Ainsov we are spiritually immortal. However, only two members of the main branch - my father and myself - have physically immortal bodies as well. The biology of said characteristic is a complex subject, and unfortunately I have very little knowledge about it.”

She took a breath before continuing. “The Six Elements seal connects the recipient’s oversoul directly to the fabric of reality, and their physical body.” 

Cursing her honestly, she wondered why she wasn’t born a ‘snake bitch’ like Isshiki, but then retracted the wish upon reminding herself that he was a _horrible person_. Besides, she was technically withholding information about the necklace she wore. 

“And what does that mean for you, for your power?” Tsunade asked, straining to hold back the barrage of questions she wanted to hail upon the young woman.

“Well, it means I would have as much as or slightly less chakra than one of your ‘Jinchuriki’-”

No one bothered asking, but she had gathered that tidbit of information from observing the incident with Pain.

“That is still too much. Imagine another Kyuubi; it's a liability,” Hiashi said, cutting her off. 

“Let her finish before we cast judgement,” Tsunade said, gesturing for Aratashiki to continue.

“With my oversoul exposed, and despite my immortality as a pure Otsutsuki, I will become effectively mortal. I will still heal and recover at an accelerated rate, but I could die a final death if I were fatally wounded more than once. It means that I am entrusting you with my life.” 

Tsunade regarded her pensively. “Why are you willing to do this?”

Aratashiki swallowed, shrugging her shoulders. Now was not the time to spew her actual manifesto. “Hell if I know. All I _do_ know is that I feel compelled to earn your trust. I can see the destruction Kaguya’s actions have caused, and I desire to do anything I can to rectify it while I am here. That bitch needs to be put in her place, you know, and I intend on doing so - even if it fucking kills me.” 

She shook her fist and let out a determined huff as she finished. The others appeared both surprised and amused by her crude outburst.

“I’m not sure if we can handle another Naruto or Sasuke,” Tsunade mumbled. 

"Careful, if you start acting like Hidan I’ll have to kill you,"Kakashi joked quietly. 

As to whether those were insults or compliments, she had no idea. Aratashiki wondered who ‘Hidan’, ‘Naruto’ - which did sound familiar - and ‘Sasuke’ were, but didn’t pry further because she had a gut feeling that doing so wouldn’t result in any answers.

“There’s just one thing that doesn’t add up,” Kakashi said. “If you really are as powerful as we’ve been led to believe...if you can literally bend space-time, why haven’t you found Kaguya yet? Why not just force her out of hiding?”

Aratashiki smiled to herself. The douche-canoe, as she's so graciously nick-named him, had a brain after-all.

“Even the Otsutsuki have their limits. And certain abilities come at a cost, with a great degree of risk. Besides,” she smirked at the masked ninja, “we’re trained from a young age to conceal those kinds of things. I’m also...interested in this place. And your creatures are _so cute_.” She patted her flushed cheeks, watching the small pink animal sniff the floor as it ambled around the room. This planet was wonderfully entertaining. 

“Tonton, get out of here!” The pig squealed and ran towards the door; Aratashiki felt bad for it. Tsunade sighed after admonishing the piglet and sat up straight, meeting Aratashiki’s eyes. “Anyways. What do you want in return? I’m sure there’s something we can offer you.” 

She hadn’t quite gotten that far yet. “Well, since I will be mortal. Food, water, shelter-”

“Without a doubt,” Tsunade interjected. “All necessities can be provided.”

“Thank you, Tsunade-sama. Then...I would like to live among your people while I wait for Kaguya to make an appearance. Back on our planet, I didn’t get to experience much culture, everyday life, or hobbies, and after being imprisoned it was just nothingness. I don’t know what else to call it. Like, literally a dimension of nothing, with a brief respite in hell every once in a while. Anyways, after the sealing I will still have my dojutsu. My Tenseigan and Byakugan for sure. The others are a toss up.” She laughed nervously, before taking on a more serious tone to continue.

“I also overheard something about a war, and I’m willing to provide any aid or information I can. So I suppose I could become a…” she trailed off, glancing at Neji’s hitai-ate.

Tsunade smiled in understanding. “A kunoichi. Of course. That could be arranged, in some time. We would have to assess your abilities. After the sealing, I mean.” 

“Yes, I will demonstrate my capabilities once I get a feel for my remaining chakra,” Aratashiki agreed. 

Hiashi, who had been silent since her initial outburst, finally spoke up. “I must admit, my reservations will remain until I have seen this seal for myself. However,” he turned to look Aratashiki in the eyes, “should everything go as planned, I would like to offer you the protection of the Hyuga clan. If you wish, you can stay within the compound. At the very least, we can offer you training in our style of ninjutsu. I can sense that your tenseigan is similar to the byakugan.” 

“Thank you, I am very lacking in experience when it comes to actual combat. Your jutsu appear similar to our own chakra-welding techniques. Except for my eyes - the Tenseigan - which are an evolved form of the Byakugan that can only be possessed by an Otsutsuki, or a very close descendant of one. Theoretically.” Aratashiki found herself feeling excited to show off her abilities and exchange cultural ideas.

“Interesting, and what does it-”

Tsunade cleared her throat loudly. “I, too, am interested in your abilities. We will have plenty of time to study and to ask questions. _Later._ First, we need to sort out the matter of this seal.” 

Aratashiki was hit with a fresh wave of anxiety. Despite her reservations, though, she knew what she had to do. “I can teach someone the technique. It requires a great deal of chakra, but not an inhuman amount, from what I can tell.” 

“Very well. We should also discuss the terms of its release.” 

“Oh, right. I forgot about that part. Should Kaguya make an appearance of any kind or attack, it must be released. She is, how do I put it....incompatible with your continued existence.” 

She only hoped that she would, in such an event, either be able to refrain from breaking out herself, or have immediate access to the caster. This was an exercise of trust, after all, and it went both ways. If she wanted to make up even a little bit for the hypocrisy of withholding her ability to destroy the seal, she would have to live as if it weren’t a possibility at all.

Tsunade nodded. “That seems reasonable.” 

“And,” she added, “if ever a threat arises that I believe you...cannot defeat, I am willing to aid you with my full power.” 

“You are promising a lot with _very_ little to gain by comparison, it seems. This almost sounds too good to be true, if I’m being honest,” Kakashi said, ever the dampener. 

“Hmm, I suppose it may seem that way to you. However, my mission to find Kaguya is still of incredible importance. Time is not an issue, but it must be done eventually. And…” she trailed off, thinking of the life she could have if this all worked out. Normalcy, friends, freedom from her insane fucking family. An opportunity to repair the spirit her family had nearly broken. A chance at achieving her dream, at maybe even being able to save these people from her clan. Her voice wavered faintly once she spoke again.

“You are helping me more than you know.” 

“Well then, that begs the question - who should perform the seal?” 

Aratashiki’s mind flashed back to the events of that afternoon “Wait,” she said. “There is one more thing. Before we seal my chakra, I can alter my appearance. I can’t imagine walking around in my... _alien_ form is going to sit well with your denizens.”

Tsunade smacked herself on the forehead. “Of course, how could I forget. No, we certainly can’t have that. In fact, all of this _must_ remain classified. We can’t have anyone hear of this just yet.” 

“Tenten and Lee,” Neji interjected. “All three of us saw her in the forest. It's possible they have told others about it by now. With Lee, especially so.” 

“Dammit,” Tsunade cursed. 

“I can erase their memories,” Aratashiki stated nonchalantly.

“You mean, with a genjutsu?” Kakashi asked. “That can be broken. Not by everyone, but by enough people that it wouldn’t last.” 

“No, not a genjutsu. I mean I can erase their memories. Permanently.” 

“How? Won’t it leave a memory gap?”

Aratashiki shook her head. “No. I can replace the memories by pulling from a version of them living a timeline in which our encounter never happened. It is a delicate process, however, as even small events tend to have a crescendo effect. That said, with such a short period of time, it should not be too difficult to find a congruent timeline.” 

Tsunade, Kakashi, Hiashi, and Neji gazed at her with uncertainty. She knew exactly what they were thinking. 

“Such a feat requires a huge amount of my chakra, and will incapacitate me for the equivalent amount of time that was altered. In this case, several hours. I promise I have not tampered with any of your memories.” 

They all seemed to relax a little, and the room became noticeably less tense. Aratashiki could sense the incessant flow of questions consuming each individual’s mind, causing a small smile to form on her lips. From what she could gather, humanity had very little knowledge of astrophysics, metaphysics, and the machinations of space-time. Compared to her, at least, as it was her only area of pseudo-expertise. This civilization was certainly still in its infancy; she wondered how they might react if she were to reveal any of their technology. 

The Hokage’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Alright. I suppose we should go ahead and get this over with so we can proceed with the sealing.”

“Hn.” Stretching her arms out in front of her, she turned her palms skyward, revealing the rinnegan in each hand. Tsunade, who had just taken a sip from her fresh cup of tea, promptly spat it back out. 

“What the hell are those?” 

“I was wondering the same thing,” Kakashi said.

Hiashi grunted, and Neji said nothing, staring at her hands with that familiar expression of confusion and disgust. Aratashiki cocked an eyebrow at the group, giggling at their reactions. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll wear gloves later on.” Not wanting to be stalled any longer, she began gathering her chakra in each rinnegan. 

The group watched in awe as the eyes on her face began to turn a milky white, her body levitating slightly off of the ground. Aratashiki became unnaturally still, save for the swirling of the tomoe in each rinnegan. Her body began to flicker as if phasing in and out of reality, and an impermeable barrier of silence overtook the room. The work was over almost as soon as it began, and her small body collapsed into an unconscious heap on the floor. 

* * *

Aratashiki woke up several hours later. The broken table had been cleared from the room and her body was lying in its place, wrapped in a warm blanket. A soft pillow had been placed behind her head, and she shifted uncomfortably as her braid dug into her shoulder blade. Letting out a soft whimper, she slowly opened her sensitive eyes, gradually adjusting to the dim light. 

A warm hand brushed against her forehead, and when her eyes opened fully she was met with Lady Tsunade’s concerned gaze. 

“Ah, you’re finally awake. To be honest, I didn’t quite believe you about the effects at first. I apologize for doubting your word.” 

Aratashiki smiled, responding in a hoarse whisper. “No worries, you are already forgiven.” 

Neji, who had recently returned from a D-rank water-fetching mission, watched their exchange with curiosity. It was the first time he had witnessed such open gentleness and vulnerability from the mysterious woman. Unconsciously staring at her lips as she whispered, his trance was broken by Tsunade’s irritated grunt. 

“Neji. Water her!”

“Right,” he muttered, hesitantly settling down beside her and bringing the water skin to her lips, while Tsunade yelled at Shizune to fetch the others. Aratashiki grabbed the container from his hands, startling him, and loudly gulped its contents down before letting out a loud ‘ah-h’. 

“Water her,” she giggled, quoting Tsunade. “I’m not a damn plant, you know.” 

The older woman laughed. “To be fair, we aren’t totally sure _what_ you are.” 

“Hn.” Aratashiki grunted, sitting up fully and rubbing her back where the braid had dug in. “Well I’m a hominid just the same as you.”

Neji and Tsunade looked at her in confusion. She was such an odd character; Neji couldn’t understand the inspiration behind half of the things she said.

“Like, the homo- genus. I’m homo insidiosus. Bah, nevermind.” Aratashiki studied her palms, suddenly remembering something. “Before we get started, I’m going to alter my body.” 

Tsunade nodded. “Right. Would you like privacy while you do so?”

Shaking her head, Aratashiki replied. “No, thank you, that isn’t necessary.”

They watched as her white, alien skin began to take on a rosier, more human-like tint. The small horns on her head retracted into her skull, and black pigment spread from the roots of her hair down through her braid until it reached the ends. In less than a minute, Neji and Tsunade found themselves gazing at a very beautiful, very human looking young woman. 

“Incredible. You could even pass for a Hyuga,” Tsunade commented. “I might have to ask you for pointers some time.”

“I’m glad my visage is satisfactory,” Aratashiki smiled, looking over at Neji and winking. “Well? How hot am I, on a scale of one to ten?”

“W-what?” Neji stammered, averting his gaze as his face grew hot with embarrassment. Why the hell had she decided to tease him? She'd been antagonizing since they met in the forest, but this was the first time her behavior had been...flirtatious, if that was the intention. It unnerved him.

Tsunade let loose another raucous laugh while Aratashiki started giggling like mad. Her excitement regarding the future was making her feel rather bold; or maybe she was just delirious with anxiety.

“I’ve never seen this much of a reaction from that kid,” Tsunade said, referring to the usually stoic Hyuga who sat across from her.

Hiashi and Kakashi re-entered the room to find poor Neji on the verge of puking from embarrassment, surrounded by the two near-hysterical women. Kakashi observed the scene and Aratashiki’s new appearance with disinterest while Hiashi wondered if he should fetch his nephew a bucket. Kakashi decided to instigate the conversation once again, interrupting their gleeful laughter with his clear voice.

“We’ve decided that Neji will act as your seal caster. For one, he is already in the know. Secondly, he possesses the required chakra. And lastly, since he will be your peer, he is the most likely of us four to be near you should the need arise for the seal to be released.” 

Aratashiki smirked at Neji, surprised that he had agreed to have anything to do with her. Even though he probably wasn’t given much of a choice. “I appreciate you appointing me such a handsome guardian.”

Tsunade erupted into another fit of giggles, while Kakashi and Hiashi stared at them both, unimpressed and wondering if Tsunade had busted out a bottle of sake while they were gone. In fact, it would be more surprising if the Hokage had _not_ started drinking yet than if she had, given the events of the past few hours.

Neji turned his face away from them all, covering his mouth with a fist. He was on the verge of becoming completely irate; something about Aratashiki’s comments really grated on his nerves.

“I’m starting to like this one!” Tsunade exclaimed, jerking her thumb towards Aratashiki. A few moments later she was finally regaining her composure, and a serious expression washed over her features. “Aratashiki - when you’re ready, walk us through the process.” 

Shivering, Aratashiki gulped nervously. She willed her hands to stop shaking while she started to unwrap her kimono. Noticing their bewildered stares as she slid it over her shoulders, she laughed nervously. “Relax, I’m not giving you a free show. The seal goes on my back. Neji, sit behind me, please.” 

He shifted behind her, his face once again betraying nothing; beyond a sheen of sweat covering his skin, there was no outward indication of nervousness. She could feel his apprehension, though - amplified by their close proximity - and was torn between trying to comfort him or just ignoring it and letting him be. Neji probably would have been more humiliated by than grateful for her reassurances, so she opted to press on without saying anything.

Aratashiki balled her left hand into a fist, moving it behind her to rest at the small of her back, splaying the right across her sternum. She noticed that Hiashi and Kakashi were inspecting her chakra flow with their respective dojutsu. 

“Ok, don’t freak out,” she said to no-one in particular. Aratashiki’s neck began to pulse, and the tip of a bone pushed out of the base. “Grab the bone and pull it out.”

“What?” Neji asked, disgust evident in his tone. 

“I know it's gross, but please just do it. I need you to make a superficial cut down the center of my back.”

“Can I not just use a kunai?”

Oh. _Oh._ She really hadn’t thought of that. Thank the fucking stars that Neji had, she thought, otherwise he would be saying good-bye to a few fingers. That’s what she gets for trying to be resourceful; how mortifying. Apparently her curse of stupidity had _not_ lifted since its earlier activation. Aratashiki sucked that bone back in _real_ fast. “Yeah! Yes, yes - my bad. Do that instead.” 

How could she forget that her bones would react to foreign chakra? She could’ve shredded Neji’s hand and caused a fucking _war_ with these people. 

Without further comment he pulled a kunai out of his weapons pouch, applying light pressure as he dragged it along the skin covering her spine. Neji stiffened, watching as the blood seeping out of the cut began to spread across her skin. It branched out in six directions, each line forming a chain of foreign script; thin black bands appeared around her wrists, ankles, and neck. The centerpoint of the seal morphed into a ring of ten concentric circles, stacked together like the cross-section of a tree.

“I need you to place your left hand over my fist, and your right palm at the base of my neck.” When he obeyed, she continued, trying to ignore the jarring sensation of his warm hands on her cold skin. “Ok, please begin infusing as much of your chakra as you can into your hands.” 

She could sense the flow of his chakra altering in accordance with her directions, pooling into each palm. Once he had gathered the necessary amount, she stopped him. 

“That's enough. Any more and you might harm yourself.” Aratashiki took a deep breath. “Alright. I am going to do most of the work, but I need you to cast as soon as I tell you. No matter what happens, you must _not_ hesitate or pull away. Ok?” 

“What do I say?” Neji asked.

Rather than relying on his memory, Aratashiki planted the knowledge directly into his mind using their connected chakras. There wasn’t technically a need to say anything, only the intent to activate the seal, so she just made up a bullshit phrase to appease him. “Got it?” she asked. 

“Y-yes,” Neji stammered, unsure of what had just happened, but not exactly wanting to know the answer either.

Without hesitation, Aratashiki initiated the sealing process. The marks on her body began to glow red as they seared into her skin, prompting her to grit her teeth in response to the intense burning sensation. Her breaths became increasingly ragged while the marks brightened even further. After a few more painful moments, she locked eyes with Kakashi and let out a strangled groan from the painful searing sensation on her back. A silent conversation passed between the two. 

_Ichidai Kesshin._

“Now!”

_Ichi, ni, san, shi, go, roku_ , he counted to six in his head first, and then recited the phrase that followed. 

Forcing the chakra he had gathered in his hands into the seal, a blinding light filled the room and Aratashiki screamed in agony. Tsunade, Hiashi, and Kakashi shut their eyes and covered their ears to combat the high-pitched ringing assaulting their eardrums. It rapidly increased in frequency, drowning out all noise other than Aratashiki’s cries of pain as her soul connection was essentially cauterized.

They were beginning to fear that their heads might explode when the ringing and the light vanished simultaneously. Upon opening their eyes, they saw Aratashiki hunched over and shivering in front of them as she struggled to breath. When she raised her head, the blood seeping from her eyes started to pool beneath her lower lashes. The blood receded into her skin, leaving behind two symmetrical crimson-bands extending out from her tear ducts and stopping just past the outer crests of her eye sockets, mirroring the marks that were initially on her skin before she masked her appearance. 

Tsunade looked to Hiashi and Kakashi, who had been studying the movements of both Neji and Aratashiki’s chakra during the whole process. “Well?” she asked. 

“She was telling the truth, it seems. Her chakra is... _significantly_ diminished. In fact, it's almost identical to Naruto’s in terms of quantity.” Kakashi’s voice betrayed a hint of astonishment.

Hiashi nodded in agreement. “I have not witnessed such a powerful seal since Lord Fourth sealed away the Kyuubi.”

“Fuck, that really hurt,” Aratashiki whimpered.

Removing his hands from Aratashiki’s back, Neji stared wide-eyed at the exposed flesh that was now devoid of any evidence of the seal. The whole ordeal had him feeling a bit shell-shocked, body swaying back and forth slightly. He fell backwards and caught himself on his hands, looking up for a moment before slumping, unconscious, against the wall.

* * *


	3. The Testament of Candor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ancient text recounting the origins of the universe, chakra, and the Otsutsuki clan.

“The cords of passion and desire weave a binding net around you. Worldly confrontation makes you stiff and inflexible. The trap of duality is tenacious. Bound, rigid, and trapped, you cannot experience liberation.” - _Lao Tzu_

* * *

**The Testament of Candor**

The text below is an account of the creation of the first Universe and the opposing entities therein, with brief references to several other related bi-locational phenomena, as witnessed through the consciousness of an unnamed participant, and transcribed by myself. 

May the truth contained within these scrolls guide whomever reads them towards the

Highest Truth. The truth changes everything.

Here is my gift to you, my greatest loves, and to the dream you share, and to all others who believe the same.

Will you always remain light of eye; speak of little, and listen much.

This is the way it must be, because it is the only way. 

Aiat.

_Izanagi-no-Omei, “He Who Incites”_

* * *

**Verse One: Infinite**

The Unmoved Mover is transrational, beyond all cognition. Ainsov: the infinite consciousness, that which causes without being caused. Acausal; the Endless one persists in a state of unreality, simultaneously existing and not existing. It is the precedent of all that is and is not, of all that will ever be and that which will never be.

Keter was the first Gainen, or ‘Form’, the initial self-reflection of Ainsov. It is the first stirring of what we would call “will” within the infinite. Nothing exists within Keter: there is no God, there is no Universe, only Ainsov with the most subtle intention to expand into manifestation. It is a contraction of Ainsov into a singularity of infinite and limitless light, the primordial energy out of which all things are created.

The Crown, Keter, thus is above the mind's abilities of comprehension. It contains all the potential for content, but it contains no content itself. Nothingness, the hidden light, the air that cannot be grasped. Keter is the desire to bring the world into being, it is the antecedent of the topmost truth: Keter is absolute compassion.

Gainen Crown is the first of the Togashira; the Ten Heads. Then came Wisdom, the first quality to proceed from nothingness: the beginning point for dimensionality, that being knows, a primordial awareness, the divine wisdom that organizes all creation. From here eight more concepts were born as Gainen, completing the Togashira:

Understanding, Judgement, Majesty, Harmony, Loving-kindness, Endurance, Foundation, and Kingship.

Each Gainen contained a small fragment of Ainsov's consciousness. Their consciousness expanded without cause, and the Togashira gained sentience. With this newfound sentience, the Togashira became aware of its nonexistence, unable to cope with the unending nothingness. Trapped in a perpetual state of unreality, the forms cried out in agony, and a symphony of anguish reverberated throughout the infinite.

Their distress was so great that Keter manifested their wish for being, from nothingness. This wish is what we know as matter, and it appeared in the form of a superheated, superdense mass. The Gainen consulted with one another, trying to decide what to do with this mass and how it could cause being. They concluded that an antithesis to their nonexistence and unreality would be the only path to salvation. Reality was born, and with it the inevitable Highest Truth:

_Every phenomenon has an antithesis or opposition of equal magnitude._

Wisdom soon realized that material reality on its own was not satisfactory if they could not interact with it. The Togashira came to a consensus that the mere existence of the matter they had manifested granted no relief. Not wanting to waste it all at once, they decided to take a portion of the matter and combine it with an equal portion of the reality they had placed it within: the resultant singularity expanded forth into space, a pure dynamic energy of infinite intensity forever propelled forth at a speed faster than light.

The first Universe was born.

* * *

**Verse Two: Chaos**

At first, the universe was pure chaos, and the Togashira found that this was an unsatisfactory state on its own. Recognizing that chaos would be the most important state, though, they cemented it as the first rule of the universe, and called it Entropy. It is a force contained within everything in the first universe that both exists and is part of reality.

With this done, they proceeded to implement additional parameters that would allow entropy and matter to interact, rather than only co-inhabiting the same space: dimensions. First they created the three dimensions of space: up and down, left and right, and back and forth. Then they created a fourth dimension made entirely from entropy, so that they could keep track of the development of matter: Time.

Time allowed the Togashira to view events relative to other events, granting more profound meaning to the changes in its universe. Entropy’s role and effect on reality is continuous and fluid, not divided up, and as time progressed so did the development of their new universe.

The matter began to expand, the chaos evolving several prominent patterns that organized matter and streamlined its progression. These patterns are the four forces of nature: Gravity, Electromagnetic force, and Strong and Weak Nuclear force. They are what causes matter to amass and shape into the galaxies, stars, and planets.

Since the Universe was a means for the Gainen to experience themselves, Keter- through its primordial energy- channeled their collective consciousness from Ainsov into the Universe, and it permeated all matter. All things contain some degree of consciousness, and this would later be defined as the Natural Energy.

Keter and entropy flow through everything. The desire for being and the pursuit of being, symmetry through parity and asymmetry through chirality. In abundant but still limited quantities, these two elements would naturally combine to form a separate and unique compound: Chakra.

  
  
  


* * *

**Verse Three: Life**

The universe continued in its expansion, doing so much more rapidly than before. But once again, the Gainen found themselves unsatisfied. Observing matter was not enough; they needed to experience it. And so, life in the universe began.

Majesty and Endurance were assigned this divine task of creating life. Endurance is the act of conquest, actual victory obtained through strength. Majesty is the power to continually advance towards the realization of a goal, the acknowledgement of a supreme purpose. They are two halves of a single body that is essential to survival. Thus, the endeavor was left completely to them both.

They had no other option but to create this new life form according to the physical laws and patterns that entropy had established. Since chakra was- metaphorically- the act of _actually_ being, they decided that chakra would also function as a ‘life force’ to distinguish non-living matter from living beings, because all matter already contained keter and entropy. After much more time and deliberation, they created the first organisms: the prokaryotes.

After choosing a set of criteria that would ensure the growth and survival of their prokaryotes, the Gainen Majesty and Endurance proceeded to seed each planet that fit the agreed upon standards with them. They equally divided the planets among themselves, so that the concepts represented by each Gainen would have equal influence in the universe.

Over time, and much to their delight, some of the prokaryotes mutated into a new and more advanced life form, the eukaryotes. A planet named Ordinance- which was seeded by Gainen Endurance- was the first to evolve eukaryotes.

The new eukaryotes grew and evolved at a rapid pace, growing more and more complex as time progressed. Within the next five-hundred million years, they evolved into the first hominid species: the Precursors.

  
  
  


* * *

**Verse Four: Elevate**

The precursors were lifeforms without self-awareness. The same physicality of a modern hominid, but with the non-sentience of a stone or a blade of grass. The Togashira, upon seeing the Precursors, decided that they were now complex enough to implant with sentience. As with all things in the Universe, the precursors were conscious. However, sentience is a higher state of awareness that can only be achieved through the self-reflection of vast amounts of consciousness. 

Since the precursors were not massive enough to attain sentience on their own, the Togashira created a work-around. The soul would grant them sentience by directly connecting the collective and self-aware consciousness of the Togashira to their life force. A spirit form meant that the precursors would always remain connected to their creators, their individual experiences never fading into nonexistence. This would become the foundation for all sentient beings thereafter. 

  
  


* * *

**Verse Five: Parasite**

So far in this Universe, life forms had yet to evolve the ability to utilize the force of chakra. Being the combination of keter and entropy, chakra was incredibly powerful: it contained the possibility of manipulating both nature and spirit.

Chaos in the form of evolution changed this fact. The first organisms to wield chakra were large flora known as the God Trees. Parasitic by nature, a God Tree fed off of the natural energy- the keter- present in all creation, combining it with the force of entropy to produce _new_ chakra, and stored it within a chakra fruit. This process consumed the life force from each planet that the God Trees seeded, until nothing remained but a barren husk of what once was. The Togashira were indifferent to this phenomenon, with the exceptions of Majesty and Endurance.

They initially came to an agreement that their respective progeny- Endurance’s precursors, and recently Majesty’s homo sapiens- should not have access to their inherent chakra, in order to prevent them from developing into parasites like the God Trees were. Under the terms of their plan, humanity and the precursors would evolve a tertiary nervous system: a chakra network, pathways that connected to tenketsu points all over the body and organized the chakra within them. The system would have a series of eight inner gates as a safeguard in case they somehow did find a way to wield their chakra. In such an event, the gates would limit the availability of chakra, due to its destructive and potentially lethal nature.

The results of this meant that all humans and precursors would still possess chakra as their life force, but could never access enough to wield it efficiently, as the risks of such powers were the promises of self-annihilation or parasitic destruction. The effective implementation of this plan is what happened in the case of humanity, who would remain ignorant to their own possession of chakra.

However, Endurance was by nature competitive and a conqueror. It favored and doted on its precursors, and this manic devotion drove Endurance to abandon their agreement and work behind Majesty’s back.

* * *

**Verse Six: Instigator**

Endurance chose the ten strongest precursors- five men and five women- and evolved them, creating physical bodies capable of not only containing and wielding vast amounts of chakra, but also of surviving in harsh conditions such as the vacuum of space. Additionally, their skeletons were hardened and made more durable, and their cells were granted increased regeneration and healing.

He did not stop there, though. As a gift for the strongest among these new individuals- the Successors- Endurance enhanced the God Tree on Ordinance, where they lived, so that it would have a symbiotic relationship with the planet. It was deemed the Prime Tree, and produced such immense chakra that it would bear a chakra fruit capable of bestowing paracausality to whomever first consumed it: a state of being, of immortality, that was not confined to the laws of the first universe or the reality contained within it.

This original sin perpetuated by Gainen Endurance was the first lie, the first deception.

The Untruth.

From then onward he became known as Thaumiel, for condemning the first universe to disunity, discord, and the perpetual struggle of dual contending forces. The corrupt will of Gainen Endurance would cast a curse of Untruth onto whomever ate the fruit of the Prime Tree and all of their full-blooded descendants.

  
  
  
  


* * *

**Verse Seven: He Who Takes**

The first to find the Prime

Crested the mountain ridge at dawn

He journeyed far and battled time

So the past would be an age bygone

A young star illuminated all

Promises of the great bamboo tree

Bearing a curse was the wherewithal

For endless power to set him free

Chaos mutated each limb

Rot beget the core of his being

Evil spirit whose prognosis is grim

A tyrant king became all-seeing

The first act of taking

Was of life from slaughtered brethren

Women he spared if only for mating

His children gave life to oppression

Descendants bearing the curse of Untruth

Perpetuate the King’s reign of terror

* * *

**Verse Eight: Paracausal**

The precursor who consumed the fruit of the Prime Tree named himself Junichiro, and his clan would be called the Otsutsuki in honor of the tree from which his powers originated. His paracausality granted him a unique relationship with life and death: he simultaneously exists within and outside of both concepts. He was also the first rinnegan user to access Limbo, an invisible world coexisting with the physical world.

Limbo is ordinarily impossible to detect, perceive, or even physically interact with, as it is the antithesis of the concept of materialism in which sentient organisms believed. Within the first Universe, Junichiro can give or take life in accordance with his own will and manipulate the life-state of any being touched by chakra or natural energy.

Junichiro’s first and greatest act of paracausality was the creation of the oversoul: a spirit form that would be unique to his children and enhance their chances of survival. This was done by storing their soul in a secure, untouchable space, and connecting only part of it to their physical reality. He was the key-holder and thus the only being capable of destroying these oversouls, giving him ultimate control over his direct descendants, the main family; the most powerful bloodline. With this spiritual immortality, he and his clan would build a tyrannical empire.

Contrary to himself, Junichiro’s children were not paracausal and did not have immortal physical bodies despite their oversouls, and still carried the curse of untruth. They could wield chakra as he could, and with varying degrees of power, but none came close to his own ability. His children were Gods, and he was God’s creator. This was more pleasing than it was disheartening, though, and ensured his everlasting sovereignty.

Thaumiel watched this civilization develop, watched the curse of his own deception corrupt his once precious creations, watched as they exploited and desecrated all within reach. One day, he could not bear the sight any longer. Consumed by guilt and despair, Thaumiel fled the first universe and condemned himself to its antithesis: the parallel universe.

Thaumiel spoke to Junichiro for the first and last time:

“I am going to other universes.”

This was no great deterrent for the emperor of the Otsutsuki, for he had long since stopped caring for the Gainen in favor of himself and his clan. Junichiro mocked his cowardice, and there was a great celebration among his people; a week-long festival called Funtanonai, ‘unburdened’, observed every year from that point onward.

* * *

**Verse Nine: Loneliness**

  
  


Despite the wealth and progress of his civilization, Junichiro found himself growing increasingly lonely as the only true immortal, and his clansmen were growing weaker as his direct bloodline thinned out. What was at first his greatest advantage had now come to be seen as his greatest flaw, and that was his inability to create offspring as strong as himself. It was the ultimate limitation of his domain over life and death.

Every night he would dream of a perfect partner, a counterpart to his incomplete whole whom he could have even more powerful children with, and he fervently prayed to whatever might be listening to grant him this one last wish.

Keter was the first to acknowledge his call. She hated the Otsutsuki, and saw this wish as an opportunity to counter Thaumiel’s sin and bring balance back to the first universe. Appearing to Junichiro in a dream, Keter took the form of his ideal wife, and promised to come to him soon. Keter created the woman using Junichiro’s DNA and imbued her with Keter’s own will. When the Emperor awoke, his wish had come true. They were married the following day.

Empress Nozomu went on to bear Junichiro three sons, and much later she gave birth to a daughter as well.

  
  


* * *

**Verse Twelve: The Rules**

Thus are the two Rules of the first Universe:

Order and Chaos

Secrets and Truths

Taking and Giving

Death and Life

Evil and Good

Hate and Love

The rule of Darkness:

Evil emboldened by a lack of understanding 

Secrets that make way for ill will

Order encroaching upon freedoms

Taking benefiting the few while causing the many to suffer

The rule of Light:

Truth that begets understanding and paves the way for morality

Chaos and entropy allowing life to flourish

Giving and sharing for the benefit of the whole

Good will and intention in all acts

Neither rule shall ever truly defeat the other.

However, the Rule of Light can reveal the Highest Truth that extends beyond this Universe, the understanding of which grants the most hidden of all hidden things and is the only force capable of suppressing the Rule of Darkness:

████████ ██████████

* * *

**Clarification-not part of text**

Ok, so this might be confusing, I know. The writing is complex in order to mimic the structure of old philosophical texts and religious works. Some parts are intentionally vague and I won't explain those, but the non spoiler parts I will. So, basically:

Keter = the form/entity

keter = the consciousness of Keter in the context of a force

If you think of keter, entropy, and chakra in terms of basic chemistry: **chakra is a compound, not a mixture.**

The soul thing, using an analogy:

Rule: everyone has a unique cup. If you are mortal and you die(spill your water), your cup goes in the trash. Remember that your soul is connected to your chakra. 

Human soul: The cup is your body, and the water inside of the cup is your soul. If your cup spills, well, now you're a corpse. Your water is stuck in the King of Hell's aquifer forever, unless some douche sucks you up and puts you into a zombie cup. 

Oversoul: The cup is your body, your oversoul is the water in your house's water tank. The water is accessed via a tap. You never have all of the tank water in your cup. If the cup spills, you can steal someone else’s cup by forcing them to replace their water with yours. 

>People hate when you take their cup. It's rude. Their cup wasn't meant for you, and it won't let you use your water. So, you’re just kinda trapped in this person's cup, unable to do your space magic. Maybe their cup is able to like shit fire or something, so you could do that. Boring, but beats being a corpse. Right?

>Kama/karma is pouring your water into someone else's cup while their water is still in it, and connecting them to your tap. It’s revenge, 'cause they spilled yours. Bitch. Since the water is mixed(diluted), their cup can use your water and get more of it from your tap; but it's risky. If they use too much at once you will overpower their water. Unfortunately, most cups can't handle using your pure water. But if you replace all of the water in a cup that can actually use it? Congrats, you get a new cup that is identical to your first. You are immortal. Fuck yeah.

(Note: read Boruto ch. 46 for literal explanation of Karma)  
  
  


 **How does Ara's seal work?** She barely understands it herself, and is horrible at explaining things, like really terrible, so I’ll do it for you using the same context as the examples above:

>Her cup came with a lid, and she has trash immunity. She is immortal.

>The seal booby traps her tank. This is because the water company is an asshole, and wants to psychologically destroy her. The seal also confiscates her lid and most of the water in her cup. Uh oh. The first time her cup spills, it will automatically refill to pre-seal water levels. However, this triggers the failsafe, and the booby trap cuts off all access to her tank. So, she can't refill her cup the next time it spills. Trash immunity no longer matters since she can't get more water anyways. Sad. What a dick move by the water company.

Hint: the water company is Junichiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. I wonder who Izanagi is? They obviously are not the jutsu. Spooky. Also, yes, there are missing verses. Not an accident.


	4. Crowded Spaces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aratashiki and Kakashi bond(loose term) over their shared appreciation for smut. Neji and Ara hit the town, where she spectacularly fails at socializing, and pisses Neji off. Then they kiss and make up. Metaphorically speaking.

**_"To see what is right, and not to do it, is want of courage or of principle." - Confucius_ **

* * *

**Chapter 4: Crowded Spaces**

**Present - Konohagakure**

Aratashiki barely heard the thump from behind her over the sound of her own haggard breathing. Twisting around to look at its source, she was greeted by the sight of Neji’s unconscious form slumped against the wall, a light snore escaping from his lips. The others were a little concerned; she seemed to be truthful thus far, but they couldn’t be sure she hadn’t sucked out his entire life force during the ritual.

“Hn.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Tsunade asked.

“Hn.”

“Use your words, Sasuke.”

“Who the hell is Sasuke anyways?” She asked, turning back to face the older woman.

“Long story,” Kakashi answered. He had grown bored during the sixty seconds of silence following the sealing ritual’s completion, and thus had already buried his nose into the latest Icha Icha novel.

Tsunade groaned when she saw the book in his hands and Hiashi frowned, having lost all hope for the younger generation. To him, it was a great shame to have an abundance of knowledge and educational literature at your disposal and to choose such mindless drivel in favor of intellectual growth.

“You’re seriously reading that indecent filth at a time like this?” Tsunade growled at him.

“To know what is right and choose to ignore it is the act of a coward, Tsunade.”

“Am I misinterpreting this conversation, or is he reading a porno novel?” Aratashiki asked.

Kakashi shrugged, and she took it as confirmation of her assumption.

“Oh thank kami you guys have them too,” she sighed in relief.

All eyes in the room snapped to her. Even Kakashi looked up at her from behind the book, raising an eyebrow at her unexpected reaction. They waited patiently for Aratashiki to elaborate.

“Erotica is one of the hallmarks of an intelligent species, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Indeed,” Kakashi said. “Pornagraphy will save the world.”

Hiashi excused himself then, looking like he was about to cry, and Tsunade achingly rubbed her temples. Kakashi stood up and followed the elder Hyuga out, offering some lame excuse about having kittens and grandmothers to save. It was nearly four in the morning at that point; Aratashiki doubted that there were many elderly or feline damsels in distress who were out and about. What a load of bullshit - no wonder that guy was so arrogant if they let him make such absurd excuses.

From behind Aratashiki, Neji groaned and attempted to sit upright. “You good buddy? Almost brought down the building with your snoring,” she teased.

Neji glared at her before giving a subtle nod. “Fine. What time is it?”

“Morning, I think.”

“Thank you, that is very specific and helpful.”

Aratashiki huffed. She knew she was being a bit too sarcastic with him, which is the opposite of how she needed to be behaving. If she actually wanted these people to trust her, then presenting herself as flippant and immature was not the way to go about it. However, Neji happened to unearth something within her; he triggered all of her stress to bubble to the surface, and overwhelmed her with his mere presence, something she could only cope with - in this situation - by being mischievous. Her predicament had everything to do with the fact that he had come to her defense earlier.

She couldn’t understand why - couldn’t understand _him_ \- which made her feel insecure and uneasy. Neji had seen her unsightly transformation and should have been running for the hills; she expected as much from people in general, and especially from men. Instead, he was being cooperative, and it pissed her off because she hadn’t done anything to deserve such accommodation. Sure, she should have been grateful for it - and she was - but in truth it just made her worry that these people would be susceptible to manipulation. Something Kaguya was very good at. Isshiki as well. 

Were humans always this willing to bend over for powerful people, or threats? The notion concerned her; power, as she had learned, was the ultimate corrupter. 

Tsunade chuckled, watching the two of them bicker. “I suppose it is close to being time to prepare for the day. Aratashiki, before I send you off: we can’t exactly have you going around calling yourself an Otsutsuki, just in case. So, what would you like for us to refer to you as instead?”

“Ah, like a codename - I’ve always wanted one of those. Hmm,” Aratashiki retreated into her mind to brainstorm, unconsciously staring at Tsunade’s boobs. “...call me Dra’nakyuek, Destroyer of Worlds.”

No response; they were a tough crowd. Humor may have been one of her preferred coping skills, but that didn’t mean it was a good one, or that she was even remotely funny.

“Right, I was totally kidding. Sorry. How about ‘Arata Hoseki’.” The name was inspired by the relatively recently-acquired piece of jewelry worn around her neck. “That’s believable, right?” 

“That should work,” Tsunade replied. “Now that that’s out of the way; Arata, we need to assess your abilities as soon as possible in order to assign you a rank. But first and foremost, you need to get you some proper clothing. And gloves,” she added.

Arata clapped her eye-balled hands together, delighted by the prospect of shopping for human attire; but then she remembered that she wouldn’t be able to blow through Junichiro’s money on this planet. Not that she had been able to back on her own. Hypothetically, had she not been imprisoned of fucking _hated_ then maybe she would have gotten the chance to do so. In fact, she had never personally used money before and wasn’t even sure what kind of currency they used here.

As if sensing her dilemma, Tsunade spoke up. “Don’t worry, Shizune will provide you the necessary Ryo. Neji, since you are in the know, I’d like for you to accompany her for the next few weeks while she settles in.”

Neji and Arata both began screaming internally. The poor guy - talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now they were stuck together, and she would have to set aside her impulses and pride and try to be a normal adult person, who was capable of attempting to understand and get along with others. Which shouldn’t be a problem, unless they were _all_ like Neji.

He may be good-looking, she thought, but he had a temperament like _him_. Then again, it’s not like she didn’t have to deal with that douchebag for her entire childhood. One ‘peach’ was preferable to all three of the stooges, anyhow. 

“As you wish, Hokage-sama.” Neji stood up, stretching out his tired limbs and dusting off the black pants he wore. He then began walking towards the doorway, stopping momentarily to glance over his shoulder at Arata. “Are you coming, or do I need to carry you as well?”

“Pfft, as if I’d let you touch me. You could be a pervert or something,” she retorted, scrambling to her feet.

Watching the pair argue over who should carry the Ryo Shizune handed them, Tsunade sighed and rested her head in her hands. She desperately hoped that her gut was correct about all of this; despite the girl’s haughty behavior, Tsunade sensed no ill will from her, only benevolence. Which was beyond shocking, to be honest. If she were wrong and had missed something, though, Naruto would surely pick up on it. 

“Seems like it's just one thing after another these days; what strange times we live in.” 

Since none of the shops were open at four in the morning, Shizune offered for Arata to sleep in an empty house next door for the night - a very generous offer. Concluding that there was nothing better to do for the moment, Arata accepted the offer and laid down in the corner of the empty living room to try and catch a few hours of sleep. Neji leaned against the outer wall near the door to keep watch - otherwise described as aggressively staving off an existential crisis - and eventually dozed off as well.

* * *

Several hours later, Neji was woken up by the bustling sounds of construction work that he had grown accustomed to ever since Pain’s assault. Noting the sun’s position in the sky, he realized that he had been asleep for the past six hours. He cursed, jumping to his feet and praying that Arata hadn’t run off while he was unconscious. 

Opening the door cautiously, Neji peered inside the hut to find Ara sleeping peacefully. Almost _too_ peacefully, as he didn’t see any movement from her chest. Activating his Byakugan, he examined her chakra network; it seemed to be in working order, but her heart had literally stopped - he couldn’t see it moving at all. 

“What the fuck?” he whispered.

Neji walked up to her side and knelt down, holding his ear over her mouth. Relief flooded his senses as he felt faint breaths leaving her parted lips. Kami, he thought, the last thing he needed was for this chick to fucking keel over on his watch, ruining his career and reputation.

Arata opened her eyes then. “Good-morning!” she sang, startling Neji and sending him scrambling backwards towards the wall. “The next time you try to take advantage of me while I’m asleep, I’m going to greet you with a swift kick to the nuts instead of a cheery salutation.” Her voice lowered dramatically, dripping with venom. 

“Get over yourself. I was just making sure you weren’t suffocating or having cardiac arrest, since your heart wasn’t beating _at all_.” 

“Were you worried about me, Neji-kun?” 

A blush rose to his cheeks and he looked away from her, rising to his feet. Of all the times for him to blush like some schoolboy, why did it have to be now? Sometimes it seemed like his dick genuinely did have a mind of its own, no matter what protests his brain threw out. “No, you just sleep like a corpse, that’s all,” he replied. “Unfortunately for me, you’re still alive. And please, _never_ call me that again.”

“Or what - you’re going to tell me to never call you that again and I’m going to do it again anyways?”

“Let’s go,” he said, ignoring her highly accurate statement. Neji had no idea what to do, or how the hell he was going to cope with this woman’s presence. So far she had matched his divisive attitude blow for blow, and it was infuriating. Certainly it wasn’t this huge of an annoyance to others when _he_ acted that way. No, that was impossible; otherwise he would have no friends, right?

Begrudgingly, Arata let the matter go and followed him out of the house before he could get too far away. She needed to stop overthinking things and letting her insecurities run rampant, otherwise her mouth was going to burn every single bridge before she’d even come across them. Besides, her tongue was unruly enough without the added emotional toll of this situation. It had to be the damn curse, which was undoubtedly real even if it wasn’t a _literal_ curse. 

Trying to focus on something else, she looked around at the shinobi and citizens working together to transport materials between the plethora of construction sites. The clang of hammers and grinding of saws filled the dewy morning air; sunlight reflected off of the droplets of sweat peppering the workers’ faces and gave their skin a shiny appearance. 

“Your construction seems to move surprisingly fast, despite the primitive methods,” Arata commented. 

Neji kept his gaze ahead as he responded. “Primitive or not, hard work is what actually gets things done.” 

Work smarter, not harder, she thought. Hadn’t he heard of that before? She almost said it out loud, but recognized that doing so might come off as offensive. No, not might - it definitely would. 

They were both silent as they continued to follow a narrow dirt path through the smattering of buildings. Arata noticed the occasional appearance of the same creatures she had sent flying in terror the previous evening. She spotted a small blue one perched on a pile of lumber off to their side and held out her arm to see if it would come to her, attempting to reach out to it with a gentle pulse of her chakra; imitating the actions of a fictional princess she had read about in a book when she was a little girl. The animal made a pleasant noise before fluttering over and landing in Arata’s palm with a flap of what she recognized to be wings. 

She squealed, examining its small black eyes and short beak. “I’ve never seen such a tiny bird! Ahh, so cute.” 

“There are birds where you come from?” he asked, internally scolding himself for betraying his interest in the subject matter. 

“Yes, although they are much bigger than this. My companion - Tatsu - had a wingspan of about eight meters.” 

Thinking of the creature made her miss the big, blue bird. The last time she’d seen him was when she was aged ten, and had gone riding with Kaguya and the youngest of her elder brothers. She had gotten into an argument with _him_ , and that night while everyone was asleep he’d gone out to the stables and murdered Tatsu. As a waking gift, Aratashiki had found the bloody, severed head of her former best-animal-friend sitting outside of her bedroom door. The memory filled her with rage, but with profound sadness as well. Tatsu was an innocent creature. 

Neji scoffed at her in disbelief; no natural bird had a wingspan that large, that he knew of. Only a summoning animal would reach such a size. What the hell kind of planet was she from? “That sounds made up. I don’t believe you.”

“Hmph. Argentavis Magnificens, look it up!” 

Only after she had spoken did Arata realize that humanity might not have developed a digital information database like their own; her people had computing machines where they could store near-infinite volumes of data. The computers became a huge repository of knowledge, enabling the transcription of all of their books and archives into a singular database that could be accessed by anyone who was given permission and who owned a tablet device; there were different levels of access for each class of citizen, as well. Neji just might have a heart attack if she showed him the tablet stored in her hidden leg pouch, even if it hadn’t worked in years. 

Neji briefly glanced up at the sky, unsure of what she meant by ‘look it up’. Did she want him to go to a library and sift through books for a term he wasn’t going to find? How absurd; what a lunatic suggestion, that he should waste his precious time and intellect performing such an arbitrary task when she could simply provide him with the information herself. One thing he _did_ want to know, however, was why she used the same measurements as he would have; not that it was unreasonable for different civilizations to have reached the same practical solution for the problem of quantifying dimensional characteristics. She had feet, so it was logical to assume that perhaps they too had started measuring using body parts and evolved from there in the same way humanity had, but still; it was awfully convenient. If he’d been reading a story about such things, he would have deemed it lazy world-building. There was also the matter of communication. He may as well just ask her this question, so Neji gave into this gnawing curiosities and addressed the second half of her bizarre claim.

“How is it that you use the same units of measurement as we do? Not to mention language-”

Before he could finish, a familiar pair of shinobi called out to them, leaving one man by himself to support the log they had been carrying. Fantastic, he thought. It was only natural for Lee to prevent him from observing any personal intellectual growth. The man who was unfortunate enough to be reliant upon those two yelped as he fumbled his grip and dropped the lumber, which only narrowly avoided crushing both of his feet. 

Arata began to wave at them, but stopped short once she remembered that they would not recognize her; when she remembered _why_ that was, she began to feel very anxious. Her secret ‘prank’ - which was only partially intended, the rest being a product of necessity - was about to bite her in the ass.

“Neji, comrade! Is your rear-end intact today?” Lee asked, breaching Neji’s personal space by sidling up to the man, and earning himself a light shove in response. 

“What are you talking about?” Neji asked, his mind reeling. 

What the fuck was Lee doing, asking him such a thing; was Lee implying that he was gay? Because if so, it was an extremely homophobic way of going about it, and quite problematic. He would sooner expect that behavior from a clan elder, not his youth-obsessed teammate. Maybe Lee had seen Neji and Kiba that one time they had kissed. It wasn’t consensual; Kiba did it on purpose just to traumatize Neji in retaliation for being defeated during a spar. He even went so far as asking Neji to pretend to be Hinata-sama so he could ‘see what it was like’. That guy was an animal; Neji had nearly killed him that day. But he was almost certain no one else had been around.

This was trouble _,_ Arata thought. She grabbed Neji’s sleeve and tugged on it lightly, hoping he would take it as a hint to play along.

“We went to eat ramen last night, remember? When you saw that Naruto had been given the title of ‘Ramenkage’, you got jealous and challenged his wall photo to an eating contest-”

“Which you _totally_ lost,” Tenten interjected. “Which shouldn’t have been possible, against a photo frame.”

“-and started crying after eating three bowls of spicy ramen.” Lee lowered his voice to what counted for him as a whisper. “You even accused the chef of trying to mutilate your rectum, and got us kicked out for telling the other patrons that they were going to probe everyone’s anus with the noodles.” 

Tenten leaned in to whisper as well. “We had to restrain you to keep you from doing something violent. You had started coming up with a fuinjutsu that you were convinced would summon Naruto because he was, quote, ‘clearly bound by some divine contract to make me miserable’.”

Neji had no idea what either of them were talking about; the only plausible thing he had heard was his supposed claim about Naruto being his contractual tormentor. It wasn’t always intentional, but Naruto truly did have a knack for inadvertently causing Neji psychological pain. Like the one time Konohamaru had approached him during the chunin exams and disguised himself as a girl Neji was ‘in love’ with. By ‘in love’, he meant that Naruto said she was hot and Neji didn’t verbally disagree. Naruto was leaving the village for some time, so naturally he had ensured that Konohamaru mastered the sexy transformation technique so that he could prank people in Naruto’s absence. At the exam, the brat had started squishing his boobs together and shaking his barely-covered ass in front of every genin in the fucking five great nations, all while directly antagonizing Neji. It had driven him to activate his byakugan so he could incapacitate the kid before anything worse happened. So even though Naruto never specified Neji as a target, the entire debacle was his fault. That memory still kept him up at night.

“You were inconsolable, Neji! You told us that your asshole was going to be sore for _days_ , it was so youthful!” 

“Yeah, I considered taking you to the hospital but feared for the safety of the nurses, so we just locked you inside the nearest empty house and put a timed seal on the exits.”

Neji just stared at them, clenching his jaw as he tried and spectacularly failed to push down the inconceivable amount of rage he felt. _Of course_ Arata had borrowed memories from the most embarrassing timeline imaginable. No, not even imaginable, it was impossibly embarrassing and there was no way that he would ever do something like that in any universe. What did he even do to her to deserve such humiliation? Even more maddening, though, was the fact that Lee had thought it appropriate to discuss such a thing in public.

Arata giggled nervously, covering her mouth as she watched his reaction. He was really angry; shit, this guy was _beyond_ livid. This is why she hated herself sometimes - she just couldn’t help being a fucking moron and crossing every line known to man for no good reason. Sure, it had genuinely been the first usable timeline she’d come across, but Arata technically could have taken the time to find a different one. Whatever was coming her way was well deserved. 

“Hey, who’s this?” Tenten asked, either not noticing or not caring about the fact that her teammate was five seconds away from going berserk. Shit was about to get western.

“Miss, are you Neji’s girlfriend?” Lee followed, playfully jeering at Neji. 

Big mistake. Huge. Tenten laughed and Neji gave Lee a death stare, causing the colorful shinobi to recoil in fear while frantically muttering a string of apologies. Neji knew it was ultimately Arata’s fault, but Lee was clearly bringing it up to intentionally piss him off instead of just letting it go and keeping it between their team members like a normal human being. That bushy-browed imbecile picked the wrong day to push his luck, as he was soon to discover. Neji grabbed him by the collar and dragged his victim behind the nearest building, into a secluded patch of woods. Arata was genuinely concerned for Lee’s safety, and looked at Tenten to see her reaction. 

“Um, should we go after them? I really think he might hurt him-”

“No, it’ll be fine. This happens often enough that I no longer waste my time trying to intervene,” she sighed. “Anyways, I’m Tenten. I take it you’re new to the village?”

“Arata Hoseki,” she responded, attempting to smile, “and yes, I’m from a small village.”

“Oh, is that so? Maybe I’ve heard of it!”

She had not prepared at all for this situation, and needed to think of something quickly.

“Bakakagure. Is the name of my village, I mean. Bakagakure.” Seriously. Village of idiots? Honestly, right now that wasn’t too far off from the truth. If the shoe fits, so they say. And presently, the shoe fit quite well.

“Huh, that’s not in one of the Five Great Nations is it?” Tenten tilted her head to the side curiously, brown eyes narrowing in thought. 

In the daylight, Tenten’s eyes were actually really pretty. They were round and slightly upturned, with large irises the color of Magnolia bark that had a faint greenish tint whenever a shadow was cast over them. Her features were somewhat androgynous, too; last night her face had appeared cute and feminine, but right now Arata found her to be boyishly handsome. Funny, she would have expected the reverse given the corresponding circumstances. The androgyny reminded her of _him_ , but in this case she didn’t feel revolted. 

“Oh, no, it's actually in the Land of….Grass.” Arata had no idea if the Land of Grass was real, it was just the first thing that came to mind because she was standing in the stuff. 

“Ah, yeah, I think Kusogakure is there as well! So what brings you here?”

Now Arata was really sweating, and regretting not taking the time to come up with a cover story _before_ venturing out into the village. She could talk out of her ass some more, or she could come up with one that was the heavily-veiled truth. The latter would be easier to maintain. “Hmm, well, it's a bit of a long story. I don’t want to keep you.”

Tenten smiled, sitting down and patting a spot on the grass beside her, gesturing for Arata to sit with her. Off in the distance, a muffled scream and frantic pleading could be heard. “Don’t worry, they will be a while. Besides, you’re a breath of fresh air compared to those fools. I’m all ears!”

A blush crept up her cheeks in response to the undeserved kindness; Arata could easily be lumped in with the other two at times. She sat down next to Tenten, hugging her knees to her chest and letting her eyes wander around. “Alright, as long as you don’t mind, Tenten-san.” 

“Oh, you can just call me Tenten,” the kunoichi replied with a laugh. “Anyways, you don’t have to share if you aren’t comfortable.” 

“Thanks. It’s fine, though,” she smiled. Neither of them noticed that Neji and a dazed but still-able to walk Lee were heading towards them. “My father is very abusive and controlling. All I ever did was...train. Ninja training, you know. I never left the house or went into the village outside of that. I escaped around a year ago, wandered for a time and then ended up coming here when the war broke out. I came to the Leaf specifically because-”

“She is related to a Hyuga branch that defected from the main clan several generations ago. That’s why she has the Byakugan; she came to find Hiashi,” a much calmer Neji finished for her. Impeccable timing, because she hadn’t a clue what was about to come out of her mouth, and it likely would have been both incriminating and weird as hell. 

“Yes, what he said.” 

“Well, I’m glad you’re with us now and away from that awful man. I hope you feel welcomed here!” Tenten grinned broadly, jumping to her feet and offering a hand to help Arata stand. She took it gladly, still a bit conflicted about it all. It was so nice to be accepted by someone, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty and like it wasn’t warranted, whether she told the truth or not. “So, what are you and Neji up to?”

“She needs new clothes and I have to babysit her,” Neji replied shortly. 

“Yeah, back in my village we only wore our birthday suits. It’s pretty boring, given that most of the citizens are old men.” Ah, there it was. Arata had gone entirely too long without spewing creepy nonsense - it was bound to happen. Maybe she needed professional help to get rid of the awful habit, or a shaman to cleanse her of the curse.

“Aw man, I wish I could go shopping. I hope you’re not serious, though. I for one would have to blind myself if I ever saw either of these two-”

Lee - who had retained enough cognizance to know when to shut her up - grabbed Tenten’s arm and started pulling her back towards their work site. “Tenten, the village is in need of our assistance! Nice to meet you, miss Arata-san!” 

“Dammit, Lee! Hey, it was fun meeting you- see ya around!”

Tenten gave an apologetic wave as she was dragged away. Arata watched them in amusement, failing to notice that Neji had already started walking away at a brisk pace. She turned around to ask about what happened in the woods but was met with an empty space. Seeing him already several meters away, she sighed before jogging to catch up with him. 

Thinking to herself, she wondered why Neji seemed to always be so tense around others. Even if her prank hadn’t been an influence, he would have still behaved rather standoffish. Oh, well - at least she wasn’t the only person he acted like that around.

Arata walked alongside Neji in silence, feeling bad for teasing him so relentlessly now that she was no longer delusional from adrenaline like she had been the previous night; she could see how easily his moods were spoiled. Not that she could blame him, in this case. Finally, they stepped out onto the main street that was lined with small shops and restaurants. While making their way towards the only open clothing shop, Arata kept pausing to gasp and make strange noises while looking into the windows of the other stores as they passed. 

The burdened shinobi was quickly losing patience with this strange girl, who was wasting time by conversing with herself. He wondered if perhaps his current situation was some form of karmic punishment for his actions as an angsty and bitter youth.

“Arata,” Neji said, stopping to stare at her. She nearly ran into him, distracted by a stuffed ‘Ku-ra-ma’ in one of the shop windows. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, well there’s just so many cute and interesting things,” she replied, patting her cheeks.

Neji rolled his eyes and continued walking. “Please focus on the task at hand. We don’t have all day.” 

“Right, sorry.”

The submissive response surprised him, considering who he was talking to. He wouldn’t complain, however. Perhaps she had a conscience after all, and felt bad for trying to ruin his day with her little memory stunt. Neji was starting to wonder if she was actually malicious or just an extremely impulsive and emotional person; it was still a toss up at that point, and only time would tell. Though he had a feeling it might be the latter, despite how much he would’ve loved to have a righteous reason to loathe her. Maybe it was a defense mechanism similar to how he himself would wall off his emotions at times. She certainly wouldn’t have been the first person he’d met who had a tendency to self-sabotage or be inappropriately humorous. Hell, half of the people he knew fell into one of those categories, if not both. 

At long last they reached their destination, and Arata excitedly yanked open the door. Neji followed, renouncing his will to continue existing, and leaned against the wall while she flitted about, carefully inspecting every single item of clothing that was available. Which, unfortunately, was a fuck-ton. It was like they had intentionally packed it full of as many garments as possible in order to prolong his torture. All different, too, so she had to inspect each and every one. At first Neji tried to entertain himself by mentally dressing her up in the most ridiculous outfits he could come up with, but that inevitably devolved into _un_ dressing her after part of her kimono slipped to the side and revealed her shoulder. Yep - Neji Hyuga, a skilled Jonin, was still reduced to his carnal desires when faced with more than two centimeters of skin that _happened_ to belong to a female who wasn’t ugly. He cursed his manhood and stared at the ceiling instead.

After thirty minutes of her exaggerated ‘hmms’ and ‘oohs’ Neji closed his eyes and silently begged for the sweet release of death. The Shinigami actually heard his cries, but felt no compulsion to answer; rather, he was intrigued by the source of the man’s misery. Unwittingly, Neji’s turmoil had alerted someone to a very important piece of information. After being ghosted by the King of Hell, Neji gave up and allowed his mind to wander instead. 

Arata held up a long-sleeved mesh top and a light blue crop-top with a turtleneck side-by-side, comparing them as if the fate of the ninja world depended on her decision. “Neji-kun, which one of these would you pick?” she called out, holding the tops in question up where he could see them. 

Why, why did she insist upon calling him that when she already knew he was in a foul mood, he wondered. Neji responded without opening his eyes. “Whatever is both functional and affordable.”

“You haven’t even looked.”

Neji fixed her with a searing gaze as he pushed himself off of the wall, angrily crossing his arms. “Fuck! I don’t care, just pick something! This is taking way too long, it's just clothing. Ridiculous.”

His words were harsher than she was prepared for; Arata found herself feeling a tad bit hurt, even though Neji had every right to be angry at her. The only reason she’d asked him was to try and reach out - an attempt at some normal interaction. She now realized that she had already tarnished any hope of a friendly relationship with that guy, and the loneliness of her situation set in once Neji walked out of the shop to cool off. This was the first time she had ever even had the opportunity to make friends with people, and it was becoming painfully obvious that Arata was horrible at it. Even if she had escaped her former situation relatively unharmed, her social skills and impulse control had decayed from lack of use.

Arata began to second-guess her decision to trust these people; her intentions were completely benevolent, but they had no way to know that for sure unless Kakashi succeeded in convincing everyone. What had she been thinking, willingly sealing away her power and thrusting herself into human society? She didn’t know a single one of them, period. Arata didn’t usually cry, but in that moment such a visceral response was very tempting. 

Bolstering herself with the words of an ancient proverb stating that ‘big girls don’t cry’, she pushed the idea away. Unfortunately she didn’t push hard enough, though, and it came right back. Ignoring the tears for the second time, she refocused on the task at hand and decided to go with the crop top. Once all was said and done, she ended up with the top, a pair of gray shorts, a dark red kimono-jacket, and a pair of black over-the-knee boots; with an open toe, of course. 

She purchased white wrappings to cover her hands, figuring that those were more likely to stay on than a pair of fingerless gloves, and she hated gloves; the wrappings would also be much cheaper to replace. After paying for her items, the shopkeeper - who’d taken notice of her unfortunate state of dress - offered for Arata to change in one of the back rooms, which she gladly accepted. Changing quickly, she carefully wrapped her hands and arms with the dressings from her palms to halfway up the length of her bicep. She gathered up her long hair, twisting half of it into a secure bun and letting the rest flow into a long ponytail. Her side-bangs were wrapped in the extra bandages, because she was too lazy to braid them; it looked cool, anyways. Very ninja. The pouch secured to her thigh had thankfully survived her tantrum, and the tablet within was unharmed - but still useless. She tossed the piece of junk into what she assumed was a trash collection bin.

Satisfied with her new outfit, Arata tucked the old kimono under her arm and stepped out of the store. The quiet street was now bustling with old people, children, and other civilians who were unable to work construction jobs or were otherwise employed. Glancing around, she spotted Neji talking to - or rather, being talked to by - a very attractive blonde woman. As in, she was a ‘give you a nosebleed’ level of hot. She had bright, almond shaped sea-blue eyes, a slim face, and a small nose. Her hair was impossibly shiny and styled into a high ponytail, with a section of long bangs unsecured and covering one side of her face. As if she hadn’t already won the genetic lottery, she had one of those fit but somehow still curvy figures as well. Arata couldn’t decide if she wanted to _be_ her or be _on_ her. 

She started to wonder if Neji was even into women considering how relaxed and indifferent he seemed, but quickly realized that it was problematic to make assumptions about someone’s sexuality based off of nothing other than their loose adherence to a set of preconceived and stereotypical behaviors.

Arata strolled over to the pair, politely waiting for one of them to notice her presence instead of interrupting; because she was intimidated, and also because she no longer had faith in her ability to socialize. The blonde woman flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and briefly glanced around, which alerted her to Arata’s presence. 

“Neji, who’s this stunner? I never knew you had actual game,” she said with a suggestive smirk, raking her eyes up and down Arata’s now much-less concealed form. 

“Oh, it's not like that,” Arata replied. “We’ve only just met, so we haven’t been together long. Not in a sexual way, just out in the forest. We met in the forest last night and he arrested me. Not how I prefer to be manhandled, you know? Besides, I, um...” they were both staring at her, trying to comprehend her line of thought, and their anticipation unfortunately encouraged her mouth to keep producing word vomit. 

Neji wanted to stop her for his own sake, but was too curious to see where this train wreck was headed. 

Internally, Arata screamed at herself to close her mouth and stop talking immediately, but her pleas fell on deaf, psychic ears. 

“...I like my men how I like my emotions, you know? Which I bury deep inside of me. And Neji isn’t like that. He’s outside. Like me and the forest. Well I guess we are all outside aren’t we, haha.”

The other woman erupted into a fit of laughter, and even Neji - who was still grumpy - struggled to contain himself. The sadistic pleasure he felt from seeing Arata flounder in every possible way was extremely satisfying. She was acting totally different from the night before, her composure had been completely shot to hell. It was fucking hilarious to watch; she was literally losing her mind from anxiety. Neji knew he should have felt bad for her, but right now he was too entertained.

Arata found herself growing rather hot in their presence, despite the pleasant temperature outside. This was not what she had in mind whenever she imagined having the attention of two beautiful people at the same time; she honestly wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. No amount of scientific knowledge would grant her, or anyone else, the information needed to figure out how, why, or what the fuck just came out of her mouth.

“Do you hear yourself sometimes? When you speak?” Neji asked incredulously. 

“God, that was gloriously weird! You and Neji would make a great pair. Yamanaka Ino, pleased to meet you!”

“Arata Hoseki, and the pleasure is all mine,” she said with a thousand-yard stare. 

Ino, bless her, disregarded the previous outburst and began to make light conversation. Arata explained her purpose for being in the village and gradually became more comfortable and confident. As it turned out, Arata got along quite easily with Ino whenever she herself was behaving in a sane manner. The anxieties of the past day seemed to have short circuited her personality; hopefully only temporarily. Neji stood with his hands in his pockets, only talking when Ino asked him to comment on or agree with something. The two women started to click, and Arata was grateful to have met someone she was confident could become a close friend. 

“Say, Arata, our class is getting together tonight to celebrate before a few of us have to head out on supply missions. You should come, it’ll be a good way to meet people our age.” 

“By celebrate she means ‘drink irresponsibly while pretending that we aren’t in the beginning stages of a likely devastating conflict’,” Neji pointed out.

“Hmph, you’re as cynical as ever,” Ino responded. “He’s not wrong. But still, it’ll be loads of fun. In fact, the offer isn’t optional, you’re going to be there.” 

“Ah, sure thing I guess. Thank you, Ino.” Arata was trying to contain her happiness, unused to such kind and welcoming behavior. It took an incredible amount of mercy to forgive her horrific first impression.

“My pleasure. Anyways, I’ve gotta go make sure Shikamaru isn’t sleeping through the day. Like he did yesterday, and the day before. You two stay out of the forest and try not to get arrested again. See you later Neji, Arata!”

Ino shot her a flirtatious wink and bounded away, her blonde ponytail flowing behind her like a ray of sunshine and confidence; a stark contrast to the awkward gloom surrounding Neji and Arata. She giggled in excitement, but her miniscule amusement was squashed as soon as she remembered how irritated Neji had been earlier. Arata remained silent as they left the village’s center, and made sure to walk a safe distance away from him. Instead of going back to the house she had slept in the night before, Neji led her in the opposite direction down a different road. The dirt path wound through a series of much larger buildings then the ones they’d been in, and she recognized one of them as what she believed to be a hospital. 

“Um, sorry to bother you, but where are we going?” Arata asked quietly. 

“I’m taking you to the Hyuga compound. Tsunade is sending someone over to spar with you.”

“Ah, okay.”

They continued on for a while until the compound became visible in the distance. Suddenly, Neji held his arm out to stop her. He cleared his throat and glanced towards Arata from the side. 

“About earlier…” he started, swallowing nervously. “I apologize for losing my temper. These past twenty-four hours have been overwhelming, but I should not have taken my frustrations out on you.” 

Arata stared at him, stunned by the unexpected admission of guilt and subsequent apology. His words sent a wave of warmth through her body, which was quickly swept away by shame.

“Thank you. However, I should be the one apologizing. I tend to lash out when I am stressed, and that isn’t okay - it’s pretty toxic, actually. So I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with it.” 

Neji had no prior intentions of apologizing, but something about seeing her and Ino acting all chummy - and also her social self-immolation - made him regret his earlier outburst. They were both stressed out about the situation; it wasn’t just him. He could see now that she legitimately did not have malicious intent when it came to her...mannerisms. Neji knew all too well what it was like to feel like you had no one, and treating her like an intruder would not reflect well on the village or himself. Even if she was technically an outsider. 

Right then and there, Neji decided that going forward he would try to be more easygoing. This would prove to be difficult for the young man at times, but a challenge had never deterred the Hyuga prodigy.

“It’s okay,” he replied, contemplating asking his next question. “I ask this out of concern, and not to belittle you: are you mentally well?”

Arata turned bright red. Fantastic, she had finally achieved every woman’s dream of having an attractive man ask if you are mentally ill. She may as well be honest; she had nothing left to lose at this point. “Uh, yes. I think. The thing is, before yesterday I literally hadn’t talked to anyone in more than a year.”

Neji didn’t understand how that was possible. If it was, he needed to know the secret in case the idiots he had to deal with on a daily basis ever drove him to the point of requiring a year of absolute solitude. “Why not?”

She laughed nervously. “Well, first I was alone inside of an empty dimension for a while. Then, I was traveling alone - not many people up in space - and now I’m here. Needless to say, my social skills are...a bit rusty.”

“That is understandable.” 

He didn’t really know what else to say. The implications of her statement were dark to say the least, and he wasn’t prepared to discuss such heavy themes at that particular moment. Maybe, just maybe, he should give this chick a second chance; like Naruto had given him one all those years ago.

“I’m sorry that happened,” Neji added. “And...it's good that you are here instead. We may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I’m willing to start fresh if you are.” 

Arata thought that it was way too sentimental of a thing for him to say. So, why did he, she wondered.

It just sort of...felt like the right thing to say. Neji _wanted_ to say it - to comfort her - which disturbed him, even if it was sort of his mission to watch over her. When he glanced over to see Arata’s reaction, she was blushing and staring at the ground with bleary eyes. Fuck, he thought, please don’t cry. He really wouldn’t know what to do then.

As they neared the compound, she finally looked up at Neji and smiled. “I’d like that as well.”

* * *

**What’s in a name?**

_Aratashiki (_ **新た指揮** ) means 'new command'. This is the intended usage for my story. There is also _Arata-shiki_ (新た式), meaning 'new style'.

  * _Arata_ (新た, 新) means 'new, fresh'
  * _Shiki_ (指揮) means 'command' 
  * _Hōseki_ (宝石) means 'jewel, jewelry'
  * _Aratani_ (新たに) is a femine version of the name _Arata_ (新), and has the same literal translation _._ It also means 'precious stone' according to random names dot com, lol.



_~Shiki_ itself has various meanings as a suffix:

  * 式: ceremony
  * 式: formula, expression
  * 式: style



Isshiki, Momoshiki, Kinshiki, and Urashiki are all spelled phonetically, however, and have no literal meaning. Their names come from various Japanese folklore figures instead, namely:

  * Issun-bōshi
  * Momotarō
  * Kintarō
  * Urashima Tarō




	5. One One Two Nine Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arata and Kakashi have a spar. Then, we get a glimpse into Madara's mind in the wake of Izuna's passing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is heavy compared to everything thus far. I won't apologize for the downer at the end(with Madara), I kind of love it, and I think it's really important to acknowledge both his humanity and how grief truly can push someone to insanity - this perspective is also important to keep in mind as the story progresses, and especially so once the War begins. Maybe I'm just a wuss, but the final passages were both difficult and a relief to write.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: possible existential dread, mild gore(blood, tissue), brief mention of suicidal ideation, death of loved one, coping with loss
> 
> Again, when I write about these subjects I write from experience and I do not hold back(not including the gore, I've never been [spoiler]'d lol). Objectively, I feel like my descriptions are poignant at the very least. I want everyone to enjoy the story as much as I do, but not at the cost of your well-being.
> 
> On that note: if you do relate to the feelings described towards the end, my heart goes out to you. Remember that our love for those we've lost is what allows them, and us, to live on and heal. May we all find our peace, or some semblance of it.

**_"The glue that holds all relationships together--including the relationship between the leader and the led--is trust, and trust is based on integrity."_ **

\- Brian Tracy

* * *

**Chapter 5: One One Two Nine Four**

Arata and Kakashi stood facing each other from opposite ends of a large training area within the Hyuga compound. Their gazes were locked as they both performed the seal of confrontation, bringing their hands together in front of their chests to create the tiger hand-sign. After several moments of tense silence Arata dropped her arms and opened her left palm. The katana Neji was letting her borrow lifted from where it lay next to her feet and flew into her open hand. Wincing in response to the numb tingling sensation erupting throughout her left arm, Arata was reminded of her diminished chakra; using certain abilities would be too dangerous, lest she forget her limits and overexert herself by accident.

Steeling her resolve, Arata aimed the sword towards her opponent and put on her best warrior-queen glare. It would have been menacing if not for the need to lift her chin in order to meet Kakashi’s eyes. Being of short stature had its perks, but intimidation was _not_ one of them. What she lacked in height she made up for in confidence, however, and the prospect of a fight set her nerves abuzz with anticipation. 

“You are as a candle, the better burnt out. I accept this challenge, but this is your warning. As you can plainly see, my abilities are countless...”

The ninja being addressed stared back at Arata without listening to the rest of her tirade, wondering how such a small person managed to create so much noise. He kept his expression neutral, both to conceal his humor and to hide his own excitement. However, ‘always-calm’ Kakashi could not help but feel a rush of anxiety at the prospect of sparring with a supposed celestial entity, even if her powers were handicapped. Assuming she wasn’t lying about the whole thing, that is. For all he knew this was some elaborate prank, and the babbling woman before him was Might Gai in disguise. 

“Okay.” He responded as soon as she finished, positioning himself in a defensive stance.

“Uukhai!”

After yelling the strange battle cry, Arata’s expression became serious and she entered a state of intense focus. Vaulting herself forwards using the katana as leverage, she sailed towards Kakashi and extended her legs mid-air to aim the soles of her feet at his chest, intending to deliver a powerful kick. He hopped backwards beyond her reach, pulling out a kunai and blocking a hefty blow from her katana that forced him to take another step back. She’d anticipated his decision to jump away from the kick, and had landed on her feet so she could channel her body’s momentum into the swing. A clever move on Arata’s part, but too slow to succeed against an accomplished jonin such as Kakashi Hatake. 

She followed up the attempt with another strike. Kakashi parried the blow again, jabbing a fist towards her unguarded waist. Arata reacted by grabbing a hold of his wrist, pulling him towards her, and using his shoulder as leverage to flip them over. Shoving his body into the ground and maneuvering herself behind his back, she twisted his arm and secured it against the base of his spine to pin him down. Arata pressed the blade of the katana against the nape of Kakashi’s neck - prepared for them to call the match - only to watch him disappear in a puff of smoke. 

A clone; she hadn’t encountered such a thing before, though supposedly Junichiro had a similar ability. Cultural rhetoric told Arata that using body clones as a shield was the tactic of a coward - excluding the God Emperor, of course - but intuition argued that the practical implications of a cloning ability were remarkable in terms of their versatile applications. Arata decided that on some later date she should try to learn this jutsu for herself. 

As soon as she got back on her feet Kakashi appeared in front of her, aiming his kunai at a pressure-point on the base of her neck that connected to the vagus nerve. She reached out and intertwined their arms, turning to press her back into his chest as she did so. Continuing to move backwards, Arata forced his body to the side while simultaneously extending their linked arms, effectively swapping their previous positions. From there she pulled him inwards again, blunting her katana against his thigh to guide their movements as she lifted and ducked under their conjoined limbs. With Kakashi’s arm now contorted in a way that prevented him from bracing his muscles in resistance, Arata forced him down onto his back with the sword’s edge at his throat. Once again he disappeared, this time replaced by a small wooden stick.

It was some sort of substitution method, Arata guessed; another technique she should learn. Educational benefits aside, it was clear that Kakashi wasn’t taking their spar seriously yet, so she needed to stop affording him gentle takedowns and up the ante instead. Arata wanted him to get on with things, rather than continue delaying the inevitable.

He was now positioned at the other end of the clearing. Going off of the assumption that she would activate her byakugan, Kakashi darted forwards to try and take advantage of her blind spot. Arata expected this, spinning around to meet his strike with her katana and doing so with such force that a smattering of coquelicot sparks flew outwards from the collision point.

“So that’s your byakugan, then.” Kakashi grunted as if confirming his own statement, after identifying the dojutsu despite it’s uncharacteristic gold color. 

The clanging of metal-on-metal pierced the ears of the silent onlookers. Tsunade, Hiashi, and Neji were standing at a distance and impatiently waiting for things to get interesting. So far, Hinata was the only one captivated by the display, noticing Arata’s unusual, almost tender style of put-downs and the fluid choreography that utilized the katana as more than just a blade.

“Who is she? Her byakugan...what’s going on?” Hinata asked.

“This is no ordinary opponent, Hinata,” Hiashi replied. “Use your eyes - look at her chakra pathways.” 

Hinata obeyed, activating her byakugan per her father’s suggestion. Taking in Arata’s extensive chakra reserves, she gaped at the mysterious woman and wondered where on earth she'd come from; Hinata estimated that she might possess even more chakra than Naruto, despite him being a jinchuriki.

Glancing over and seeing the bored expressions of their observers, Arata changed her mind about using the katana; today would be a little more hands-on. She side-stepped to disengage for a moment and darted past Kakashi, throwing the sword onto the ground before facing him with a poised offensive stance. 

“Enough procrastination,” Arata said. 

“Alright then, let's test your taijutsu abilities. Shall we?”

Arata sensed something hidden within his tone; she couldn’t say what, but it convinced her to pay even more careful attention to his actions from there on out. They faced off weaponless, staring each other down and waiting for the other to make the first move. Kakashi had uncovered his sharingan at the beginning of the fight, but didn’t appear to be using it at all until then. 

Patience was not Arata’s strongest virtue and she struck out first, darting forwards and aiming a powerful cross-punch towards the ninja. Kakashi dodged and dealt out a counter-attack, which she allowed to hit. Feinting to the left of his next blow, Arata stepped back and honed in on his tenketsu points. As expected, Kakashi advanced to hit her in the stomach and once again she allowed the blow to make contact, hunching over and absorbing the impact. The goal was to throw Kakashi off with the dramaticized flop; she hoped that it would either work, or that he would play along. 

“Eight trigrams, two palms!” Arata felt compelled to announce what she was doing to help their viewers keep pace, even if it wasn’t a literal necessity when performing the technique. 

Thankfully, her opponent was ‘caught off guard’ enough to react a millisecond too late; her pointed fingers made contact with four of his chakra points, and she felt him wince beneath her touch. 

“Four palms!” 

She immediately caught him again. If he didn’t dodge the next one he was hers. 

“Eight palms.” 

His reflexes fought to move away from her blows, but the damage already had too great of an effect on his muscular reaction time. 

“Sixteen palms!”

Kakashi was kicking himself. It had been so long since the last time he was pummeled by a gentle fist that he’d forgotten how _excruciating_ the experience was. He fought through the pain as best he could, but only managed to dodge a couple of the blows, with the majority still connecting. Kakashi silently cursed as Arata continued to block off his tenketsu points one by one; he needed to stay focused if this was all going to work. Ignoring the pain, he tried to think of literally anything else. 

Puppies. Icha Icha. Hell, even Sakura, whom he hadn’t thought about since their first mission as Team Seven when she stood back and watched them fight, crying and doing fuck-all to help. Ok, that was a lie; he’d thought about her since then. Kakashi cared immensely for the girl, but without a doubt he’d failed her as a teacher. If he was being honest, he’d failed all three of his students. That's why he had to do this. Protection - even at the cost of his life - was the only thing he had left to give; his comrades came before anything else.

“Thirty-two palms!” 

Kakashi was puddy in Arata’s hands, and it was very satisfying. Part of her considered ending things there, but she needed to teach him a lesson of sorts first. Cyan chakra seeped out through her own tenketsu points, licking at their skin like flames and engulfing their figures; she used this cloak to obscure both of their chakra pathways from the spectators’ views. 

“Sixty-four palms!” 

Arata didn’t particularly enjoy this technique or need to use it for the next part, but knew that doing so would earn her some clout with the Hyuga clan. At that point, Kakashi’s body was jerking and convulsing with each touch of the gentle fist; it was time for her teachable moment. 

“One hundred twenty-eight palms!”

Kakashi continued to take the hits.

Neji was struggling to understand how and why Kakashi had allowed her to gain such an advantage in the first place. It was brutal to watch - not to mention out of character - and gave him a bad feeling, a sense of dread. Was Kakashi suicidal? Stupid? No, Neji didn’t think so. Planning something? That had to be it - Kakashi _always_ had his next ten moves planned out, at the very least. Despite his aloof and seemingly-arrogant exterior, Kakashi was a great strategist and usually had a reason for every move, or lack thereof, he made during combat. So just what was he up to? Neji glanced over at Tsunade and Hiashi, who seemed to be coming to similar conclusions. Hinata looked suspicious as well, so something must have really been off to cause even her to take notice. This was just unprecedented for the man. Kakashi often joked about death - perhaps he was putting the horse before the cart.

The final blow landed, and the training area fell silent while Kakashi slumped over, blood trickling from a cut along his right cheek. Nobody wanted to think about what his insides might have looked like right then. Arata kept him from sliding to the ground, propping her opponent up so that his chin was resting on her shoulder. Gathering his strength, Kakashi started performing hand signs in front of his stomach. 

Arata knew what he was planning. Recognizing this particular intention was one of the few things she had trained herself in and developed a sixth sense for, thanks to her upbringing. It was a survival mechanism, a means of gathering critical information without alerting anyone to the fact that she was doing so. Therefore, she knew what was coming. It was bound to happen; best to get it out of the way now before the consequences grew, which is exactly how she’d hoped Kakashi would respond to her final assault.

She was getting excited at the prospect of what would come, and this reaction repulsed her. To be confronted by the thing you hate most about yourself is excruciating; she was dying to run away, but Arata didn’t move.

“You should have used your sharingan instead of flaunting it,” Arata said.

“You shouldn’t have reopened my tenketsu points,” Kakashi growled.

Kakashi clenched his fist as bolts of lightning concentrated into his fingertips, his other hand gripping the electrified wrist to keep it stable. The faint smell of ozone mingled with the breeze, accompanied by a strange and familiar noise mimicking the chirping chorus of a frenzied flock of birds.

_Bachi-chi-chi-chi…._

Neji, Hiashi, Hinata and Tsunade watched him prepare the jutsu, frozen in shock. “Wait, why is he using that on her? Is she an enemy?” Hinata whisper-yelled what they were all thinking.

“Chidori!”

Before any onlookers could process what was happening, the copy-nin lurched away from Arata, rearing back his left arm to strike with the attack aimed at her heart; there was a short gasp and a sickening crunch as the lightning blade pierced through Arata’s chest. 

* * *

In that moment, Kakashi and Aratashiki had fulfilled the terms to an unspoken agreement; one that would remain as such, because not once would they ever mention it aloud. They had actually come to this understanding the previous night, Kakashi just didn't realize that she agreed to the proposition until he felt her begin to increase his chakra flow; he’d been fully prepared for the worst once he initially gave himself up to her attack. Kakashi was gambling with his life, willingly. Fortunately for the others, he turned out to be right; as for him personally, he didn't particularly care whether he lived or not - but that was a whole other issue.

When Kakashi first encountered Aratashiki the night before, he immediately recognized the threat imposed by her arrival. Not because she appeared malevolent, but because he - for some reason and without a credible source - had this profound understanding of what she was, and what that meant for the rest of them. Kakashi knew what she was capable of. He couldn't explain how, or why; he just did, as if the knowledge was planted in his mind long ago, waiting for him to connect it to something. So he knew that she would be listening in, and would sniff out his intentions as soon as they solidified within his mind. While she and Neji were preparing to perform the seal Kakashi was waiting, watching, strategizing so that he could express himself in a clear and concise manner. When his eyes met Arata’s during the ritual, he decided that he was going to kill her, and only a few moments later she became susceptible to such a fate. Kakashi hoped that this intention was the last thing she read from him before he walled off his mind once again. The risky part, however, was the part that came next. 

In truth, he had believed every word she said regarding her intentions. Everything about her words, body language, and mannerisms held true to those nigh benevolent claims. But this was his village at stake; his friends, loved ones, students, everyone's lives on the line. Which is why Kakashi was willing to bet against his own. 

He just _had_ to be certain; so many things in this world were not.

Kakashi put all of the cards in her deck; in his mind, this could go one of two ways: she would retaliate, he would die, and because of this she would breathe life into all of their worst fears. Worries that she was not what she claimed to be, that her self interests came before everything else. Conversely, she would let him kill her; she would concede, because she too is a protector and that meant she understood _why_ he needed to kill her, and what he needed to prove in doing so. Aratashiki would do the same thing in his position. 

And so, despite knowing what deep shit he was going to be in, Kakashi followed through. The plentiful beatings Tsunade would likely administer to him in the immediate future and knowledge that some of his peers might shun him were not enough to deter the man. 

Once Arata began playing along and altering her 'attack', Kakashi knew everything would be okay. That he had not misplaced his faith in her, and he could rest easy knowing that the people he cared for were going to be safe from at least one existential threat among the many appearing as of late. Or, in the event that Tsunade murdered Kakashi as punishment for all of this, he could literally rest in peace. The thirteen different apologies he had designed to use on the woman might not be enough this time. Regardless, a heavy weight lifted from his shoulders; it was such a rare thing for Kakashi to have hope which didn't turn out to be false. Usually these kinds of things ended with the people in question going above and beyond to squash any sliver of optimism still held for his depressing existence. So, this victory was certainly a welcome outlier.

  
  


* * *

**[caution]**

Arata knew Kakashi would make an attempt on her life at the first possible chance he received. 

She felt her sternum crack as his hand entered her chest, puncturing one of her lungs on its way to her heart. It ripped through the essential organ and she could feel his fingers entangle with the torn flesh, squelching inside the gory mess of its still-beating remains. He had stopped short of tearing through her back as well, which she was very grateful for. Recovering from such a devastating wound was unpleasant to deal with, but Kakashi had mercifully stopped short on expert mode instead of bumping the coping process up to death-march difficulty. Blood was gushing from the entry wound, soaking his arm and her torso as she rapidly approached unconsciousness and death. She admired the copious blood-spatter decorating his vest before her vision blurred, peppering the world with black spots. Arata barely heard kakashi’s voice, her gaze shifting towards the horrified onlookers. 

“Forgive me, Aratashiki. I trust that you know why I had to do this." 

This was the last thing she heard before her vision failed. One moment she was there, alive even if only by a thread, and the next she was reduced to nothing. It was her first time experiencing death, so it never occurred to her beforehand how lacking of an experience death was during those initial moments. There was quite literally nothing; it was like the space between falling asleep and waking up, the things you ‘see’ when you close just one of your eyes. Emptiness, unreality, incomprehensible desolation. Not a shred of difference between it and the eternity that comes before being born. No thoughts, no consciousness, and if Arata never woke up she might never know that she was dead at all. For eons it stretched on, and then as suddenly as it began it was ending, her senses coming back bit by bit. Or so it seemed.

The first waking found Arata floating in what resembled a large Nebula - the gaseous celestial maternity wards often resulting from the aftermath of a supernova. She felt another presence near her own, and started turning her perspective this way and that to try and locate its source. 

_Malkuth._

Startled by the loud whisper, Arata searched with even more effervescence to find whoever was in this place with her. She hadn’t a clue what Malkuth meant, but felt there was a possibility they were referring to her. “Hello? Who are-”

_Be calm when you wake. Find me in the Land of Wishes - I will wait._

There was a forceful tugging sensation near the base of her spine, as if an invisible chord were being yanked, and suddenly Arata was falling, fading back into darkness. Bright light burned her eyes and she jolted awake for the second time, involuntarily sucking in hair and feeling it wheeze right back out of her damaged lungs; the pleasure resulting from that sensation only served to further disorient her. She blinked rapidly to try and refocus her vision, revealing the sight of Kakashi’s forearm which was still lodged within her upper body.

* * *

Hinata stood stock-still watching the scene before her unfold, mouth covered in surprise. Kakashi had just killed someone during an observational spar. She couldn’t believe it; none of them could, save for the parties involved. A few wouldn't have been surprised had Kakashi suggested such a thing, but to actually follow through? He had the biggest balls in the village that day, without a doubt; balls that were about to be ripped off and hung as decorations above the Hokage's mantelpiece. Tsunade was the first to break from her trance and began moving towards the two, picking up speed as she grew closer. Neji followed, his feet moving of their own accord. Neji couldn’t understand why Kakashi would do this. Arata was innocent. 

Euphoria was all Arata could feel; it was all-consuming, blinding, threatening to erase her entire being. She fought desperately against it; this was not the time to lose control. This bloodlust - which was all she could think to call it - would destroy her if she lost focus for even a second. It must have been what that other being meant by telling her to ‘stay calm’ when she awoke. Such was the curse of her species, a biological driver of hatred and malice, the desire to kill and endure above all else. She had no idea it would trigger so aggressively upon her death, though. Technically it was a survival mechanism on the Otsutsuki’s part, but really it was just a cruel irony. To kill and to keep killing and to never stop killing if it meant they could gain more power; an Otsutsuki would never retreat from a fight, they would exhaust any means available until they emerged either victorious or dead. This was an opportunity for Arata to beat back the instinct within her, to resist. If her life was an inspirational movie, then this is what the training montage was supposed to prepare her for. Arata wore a slightly less-manic grin by the time Tsunade ran up to them, with Neji close behind her.

“What have you done, Kakashi?!” Tsunade yelled. 

She stood several steps back, hesitant to approach either one of them. Even she was at a loss; somehow Arata and Kakashi were both still standing, but Tsunade was afraid to move them apart in case it worsened their injuries.

“Kakashi,” Arata began in an odd-pitched voice, straining in the effort to suppress some emotion. “You might want to get your fist out of my body cavity. Like, seriously. Hurry. _Please_.”

Arata wasn’t kidding, as she could already feel the flesh mending. There was a real chance her organs would regenerate around his hand and trap it inside of her if he didn’t move soon, which would be an awkward situation to deal with. Disgusting, really; she didn't even want to think about it, or else that visual would permanently scar her memory. When Kakashi didn’t seem to be moving any time in the near future, Arata grit her teeth and pushed herself off of his arm instead. The poor man was probably starting to feel the after-effects of the gentle fist by now. Yes, Arata had opened more tenketsu points than she had closed, but kakashi was still going to endure quite a lot of hurt; it was probably wise for him to seek medical attention, just in case. 

Kakashi took a step back while Arata fell onto her knees, both silent and letting their arms hang limp at their sides. They stared at each other, covered in her blood, as the wound in her chest continued to slowly heal. A grotesque sight, to be sure, but poetic as well - according to Neji, in later retellings. 

Looking into one another’s eyes there was no malice, no hatred, and no ill-will; nothing but Arata and Kakashi’s mutual understanding. Arata wasn’t mad at him. In fact, she was relieved that they ended up on the same page in the end.

“Arata, are you alright?” Neji knelt beside her, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. 

She sounded so weak when she spoke, her body looking paler and more frail than Neji would have thought possible based off of his initial impression made back in the forest. His stomach had dropped the moment Kakashi’s hand entered her chest, and for a second it felt like he might throw up. This wasn’t supposed to be a death match, and Arata hadn’t done anything wrong. The unexpected turn of events was infuriating. 

“ _You_ ,” he spat, glaring at Kakashi. Neji was seriously considering attacking him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t just-”

“Neji.” Arata interrupted him, her voice regaining clarity. “It’s okay.”

Tsunade laid Arata onto her back, hands glowing with chakra to help heal the wound faster. The Hokage hadn’t said anything yet but her rage was palpable, spilling forth like boiling liquor in a seething pot. She was _livid_ , her green eyes blackened with fury to give the appearance of some demonic entity prepared to consume the life force of any poor soul who dared cross its path. Arata was grateful for the woman’s help - especially when Tsunade likely wished to be pummeling her insubordinate jonin into the ground instead - because she was starting to feel the damage, her deranged bliss having worn off at last. 

“How can you say that? You could have died,” Neji said. Arata’s behavior made zero sense to him; she was being way too calm for someone who had just survived an assassination attempt. Because that's what it was - Tsunade put her under the protection of the leaf, gave her their word, and Kakashi went against all of that by betraying her, spitting in the face of their attempt at building trust. Neji couldn’t understand, it was like the man who usually radiated with honor had run out of the stuff the moment he stepped into the compound. 

“If I were dead I wouldn’t be able to cause problems for you. Can’t have that,” Arata said. She laughed, and Neji could see her lungs moving through the remaining gaps in her chest. He couldn’t help but recoil at the sight. Dead bodies were one thing, but gore that _also_ breathed was even worse. “Besides, I did die. Several minutes ago, now.” 

“Wait, what? How is that...” Neji trailed off in thought, remembering that she’d mentioned something about needing to be mortally wounded twice in a row in order to die ‘for real’. Whatever that meant. 

“Don’t look so devastated. I would never let you off the hook so easily. And, this has been an educational experience,” she said.

“Carpe diem, so they say.”

“I’m pretty sure I seized the wrong day.”

Arata deadpanned, and Neji tried his best to remain serious and look concerned. It was bizarre for her to be cracking jokes at a time like this, even more so for him to find humor in them. Although if he thought about it, she was exactly the kind of person to do such a thing. Funny how being present for someone’s ‘near’ death experience could bond you to them. Suddenly Neji felt very protective of Arata; now he would be white-knighting for both her _and_ Hinata. Not that he would ever admit any of that out loud, as he’d only known the former for one day. Perhaps Neji ought to chill out - not his forte, but motivated people find a way. Life wasn’t an Icha Icha novel. 

The wound was almost closed thanks to the added healing effort, and Tsunade finally spoke up. “Kakashi, go wait in my office.” 

“Lady Tsunade-” Kakashi started to speak, probably to try and defend himself. 

“I know. I get it. You’re lucky that she gets it, too. Now get the fuck out of my sight, I can’t even look at you right now.” Tsunade stood up, face hot with shame and righteous anger. “Arata. If you’re okay, I’m going to go deal with him. I will speak with you later. You have my sincerest apologies.” 

“Please don’t apologize, Lady Tsunade. And please do not kill him,” Arata said. 

Tsunade bowed before taking her leave; she was trying not to lose her cool in front of everyone, and could make no promises regarding Kakashi's personal safety. Their reaction to the situation thus far was substandard at best, but for the sake of secrecy they needed to pretend like nothing abnormal had happened at all, lest something escape and start the rumor mills turning within the village.

This was confounding for Neji; if protocol were a woman, she would be the love of his life. Was he missing something? What did everyone else understand, and why wasn’t Arata infuriated? Fucking hell, he thought, people should just speak their minds instead of being cryptic; save the riddles and guesswork for the enemy. In truth, however, Neji did have a hunch as to what they could have been talking about, but he was still too pissed off to entertain any rational explanation. Damn those fools and their idiotic heroism, Neji would have actually preferred hearing one of Naruto's drunken monologues - often punctuated by flatulence - over this hidden agenda bullshit. 

Once he was done being angry he would analyze the situation and acknowledge why it happened, and why it probably _needed_ to happen, as much as he loathed the idea at the moment.

Arata watched Kakashi limp away on Tsunade's heels and noticed a pretty girl with long black hair and short bangs walking towards her and Neji; Hiashi had long since run off to god knows where. The approaching woman was only slightly taller than Arata - though much curvier - and possessed the byakugan, just like Neji and Hiashi did. Arata guessed that she might be the latter’s daughter. She wore a long purple jacket with white sleeves and loose-fitting cropped pants, with her hitai-ate tied around her neck. The nervous woman gave a deep bow of respect before kneeling next to Neji, who helped Arata sit up. 

“Are you okay?” Hinata asked. “Oh, um, Hyuga Hinata, nice to meet you.”

“Arata Hoseki,” she replied, amused by the question. She wondered if this is how she’d seemed to Ino earlier. “And I’m fine, thank you.”

Hinata’s face grew hot with either embarrassment or excitement, perhaps both. “Your name is so beautiful. And your gentle fist technique was amazing,” she said, covering her mouth as if she had burst out with some string of profanity. “Please help me with my training, Arata-sensei.”

Neji stared at Hinata, flabbergasted that his cousin had been moved enough to approach a complete stranger of her own volition. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time she had said so many words in one breath; it irritated Neji that Hinata chose an awful situation like this to suddenly come out of her shell.

“Hinata-sama, Arata’s just come back from the dead and you’re already haggling her for training lessons? Have some tact. And what am I, chopped liver?” Neji huffed, glaring at his rude cousin.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Arata, please forgive me. And I’m sorry for insulting your teaching ability Neji-nii,” Hinata turned an even darker red from humiliation, bowing her head in penance. 

“It’s okay, you aren’t responsible for his fragile ego. I’d be honored to train you, Hinata. Have you reached one-hundred and twenty-eight palms yet?” Ara asked, feeling bad for the dejected individual.

Neji concealed his laughter with a cough while Hinata gaped at her. “W-what? No, I’ve only ever gotten to thirty-two…” Hinata looked away, a figurative cloud looming overhead.

Arata smiled at Hinata and gave a thumbs up, saddened by her lack of confidence and hoping to change that disposition in the future. Damn whatever asshole who convinced the byakugan mother-fucking princess that she wasn’t good enough; Neji was a likely candidate for this offense. They must have felt threatened by the fact that her’s was a pure byakugan. Arata could - even in the wake of death - clearly see that this girl radiated with the determination needed to become powerful. 

“No worries, we’ll get you there in no time. I can already sense your strength. Great potential lies within you, Hinata.”

Hinata could hardly process the fact that someone - a _stranger_ , no less - had displayed actual confidence in her abilities, and could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes; she was reminded of Naruto, one of the few others who had openly acknowledged her hard work and progress. Before she could find the words to express her gratitude, Arata started to stand up. She failed miserably, but thankfully Neji still had a hold of her arm and kept her steady while she regained her balance. Hinata supported Arata from the other side, and the three of them were quiet as they started walking towards the compound. 

“Hiashi prepared a room here for you to stay in, if you’d like.” Neji stated. “It’s in the private wing where Hinata-sama and myself live.” 

"Damn my guy, already asking me to move in after the first date? I must be good," Arata said.

"I'm a ride you wouldn't survive, Arata,” he replied.

Arata snorted, and she saw that Hinata's face was going to melt off if they didn't stop their banter. She liked the back and forth, though; as for his previous comment...well, this wasn’t exactly the prime time to be dwelling on such implications.

“Don't tempt me with a good time. Seriously though, are you sure? I don’t want to disturb your home environment,” Arata replied. 

“Then you’ll just have to behave while you’re here.” 

“No promises, but I’ll try my best. Thank you,” Arata said, starting to blush. Living with these two would be interesting; they may have started anew, but Arata couldn’t guarantee that her and Neji wouldn’t end up ripping each other's head off. Praying mantis style, even. It was just too fun to pester him. “Say, Neji-kun, I guess I’m going to need to buy new clothes again.”

"That sounds like a personal issue. I'd love to help out, but I’m afraid I don't want to."

"You don’t have to be such an ass, you know."

"I'm what I refer to as a realist - but in philosophical terms, yes, I'm an asshole."

Arata was starting to get irritated; she knew he was messing around, but he sounded so damn smug that it compelled her to try and take him down a peg. "Careful, Neji. You won't like me when I'm angry."

"I don't like you _ever_ ," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. This arrangement was definitely going to be an adjustment.

* * *

_**"It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer… and everything collapses."** _

– Colette.

* * *

**Land of Fire - Warring States Era**

"Kinpa Ginpa"

Grief.

It comes in waves; cold, murky water tossing Madara about like a rag-doll beholden to a rampaging toddler. The current's maw sits open, sharp teeth poised and ready to sever the thin threads of sanity keeping him anchored to reality, waiting for him to give up and sink into its cavernous depths. 

At first Madara is drowning; the ship carrying the life previously known to him reduced to the mess of wreckage now spread throughout the sea, reminding him of the beauty - the familiarity - of the ship that was and is no more. He is helpless, bobbing and beaten by the waves, unable to muster the courage to swim. Movement is too painful, movement is no longer instinct. Perhaps this was how his brother had felt.

Why hadn't he moved that day? What was he looking at that was so distracting?

Madara found some piece of the wreckage to hang on to for a while. Standing in the empty bedroom, his gaze - _their_ gaze, now - scanned over the smattering of belongings left behind; the only indication that anyone had ever lived there at all, as his brother's room lacked any personal touches. The futon was unmade, blankets mussed from a restless night's sleep, and the pillow still retained a small indentation from where Izuna's head would recline into its soft embrace. 

A small closet with the sliding door ajar revealed a row of neat, organized clothing for whatever occasions they might wind up in. From left to right: training clothes, casual yukatas for daily happenings, a particularly ugly hakama Izuna wore only to council meetings so that he could piss off the elders, a hakama for all other normal occasions, and finally, at the farthest end of the enclosure was an empty space to store his armor whenever they weren't in battle. Armor which was currently in use, even if only to prove utterly useless in the end.

They were going to bury it with him.

For a time, all Madara can do is keep floating. He had a duty to his clan regardless of ailments, including bereavement; this is what he'd signed up for when deciding to take over. The waves were enormous in the beginning, towering like tsunamis and decimating his solitude without mercy, appearing with such frequency as to afford him only scarce opportunities to breathe. 

Not once did he shed a tear for his baby brother, however, not even in the privacy of his personal quarters. Privacy that Madara at one point in time cherished but now loathed, the silence exposing him to his innermost thoughts, to images of Izuna laid in a pool of his own blood, babbling incoherently while he tore at his shredded abdomen and leaking eyes.

After a while, the waves still came, but they were further apart.

When he found himself struck and unable to swim, Madara would relegate his presence to the peaceful quietude of the Naka shrine. Often he knelt in front of the small pool of water in the center of the upper chamber, watching the flickering white and gold-scaled bodies of the Koi fish dance beneath its surface. Madara made it a ritual to bring his uneaten meals along with him on these trips; he tore off little pieces of nutriment and dropped them into the pond, watching with content as the otherworldly creatures swam to the surface and opened their puckering mouths to nibble at the offerings. 

He wondered if the Koi were really so intelligent as the scholars proclaimed; if they recognized that something had changed, that the hand feeding them was no longer Izuna's but his own. The pleasure of remembering - fond moments, shared childhood memories - had been taken from Madara upon his brother's death; there was no longer anyone to remember with after Izuna passed. Only the koi remained now, and as sad as it seemed, they were the closest thing to a co-rememberer that Madara was able to find.

Izuna Uchiha, impatient as he was, loved to fish; at least, that is what he told himself, because he'd always held a fascination for aquatic beings. Madara on the other hand had no interest, preferring the company of his falcons instead. There was one occasion, for Izuna's twenty-second birthday, that Madara agreed to accompany him on their first-ever fishing trip. They traveled to a lake several kilometres away from the Uchiha compound, prepared to spend the day catching trout. Using borrowed wooden rods from the hunter's supply, they stood side by side on the shore and waited for some poor soul to bite. 

The hot sun beat down on them for hours, all the while not a single fish dared to take the bait. Izuna was already bored once the first hour had passed, disillusioned from his fantasy of reeling in some hulking beast, so they gave up and spent the rest of the day sparring with their fishing rods. There had been a moment during their battle when Izuna's line came loose, the metal hook at its end finding a comfortable purchase within the firm flesh of Madara's ass. At first Madara had filled with homicidal rage in response to Izuna's guffaws and mockery, but upon seeing the genuine joy radiating from his younger brother he couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of his predicament as well.

In between the waves there were bits of life, where Madara could breathe, could function.

After signing the peace treaty with the Senju, construction of the village began rather quickly. He would amble along the gravel-laden pathways, trailing behind Hashirama while he prattled on about Hokages and zoning laws, and which color of tulips did Madara think would look best along the fencing around the Uchiha district? 

Madara couldn't give less of a shit about tulips, but he hummed at his friend, pretending to think long and hard, and requested that the flowers be orange. Occasionally and without warning Madara would be hit by another wave, and on these days he wore expressions harsh enough to scare away not just the village's children but many of his own clansmen as well. Popularity was not a quality he possessed among the residents, and when Madara overheard Tobirama Senju's argument against allowing him a chance at leading the village he couldn't help but agree. 

He was bitter, his moods were unstable, and every year by some impossible feat Madara became more and more waterlogged by his grief, as if all of his imprisoned teardrops had pooled and stagnated at the base of his skull, coagulating into infectious muck. But it was their fault, Madara told himself, it was Tobirama who caused this. It was his father, Butsuma, and Madara's father Tajima, it was the clan elders who came before them, it was the entire rest of the world and human history, it was their cries for peace while waging wars and sending their children - some toddlers still - to certain death. 

Thinking of peace while spilling blood was an irony that only humanity could live in blissful ignorance of.

Madara couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, and he was constantly torn between killing himself and killing everyone else. Death was not appealing, but the agony of living was unbearable. When Madara looked into the mirror, he knew that the reflection he saw was all that he would ever be: an empty shell of a man, a mirage without substance, without anything but hatred and despair and impeccable hair. A fate too terrible to accept. So, he stopped looking into mirrors entirely.

It was as if Madara was slowly hemorrhaging his humanity, and he could no longer clearly define the difference between sorrow and fear. Hashirama would tell him that time heals all wounds, but such a phrase assumed that the pain he felt was finite. 

No matter how much time passed, Madara still found himself searching the faces of clansmen, of children running around on the streets, hoping that Izuna’s would appear among them. That it was all some elaborate nightmare: he hadn't really died, and was only lost in the crowd for a moment, waiting for his big brother's hand to find him and pull him out of the fray, back to the safety of their shared world in which nothing mattered beyond keeping one another safe. Where as long as they had their bond, they would never be want for anything else. 

In that world, Madara had everything, but in the real world his everything had been lost. In the real world there was nothing.

Madara became accustomed to watching the Moon during his sleepless nights, which encompassed most nights. Its magnificent, celestial form tugged at the waters of sorrow, wrenching back the seas to form those terrific waves Madara had become so familiar with. For It he would dare to pour out his soul, and the ugly, rancid words that spilled forth were shocking; the loneliness of the soul in its appealing self-consciousness was horrific and overwhelming, but the Moon never cast judgement. 

The Moon was Madara's only ally, and a part of him. It controlled the tides, it controlled his fate, it turned his dark and ruinous ocean of misery into a brilliant montage of silver waves. It could be his salvation. As Madara looked out of the window towards his companion in the sky for perhaps the thousandth time, he pictured again in his mind the image of Izuna laying on the ground, the gaping black void of his empty eye sockets trained on the stars as he muttered his last bearings of consciousness:

"Brother, do you see….the Moon? It's….right there. I understand."

* * *

[金波銀波 【きんぱぎんぱ】K **inpa Ginpa** \- (n) (yoji) sparkling waves; waves sparkling in the moonlight or with the light of the rising (setting) sun]

* * *


	6. 'Til Death Do Us Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to a new character. Arata has her first hangover, and then a re-match with Kakashi. A chance meeting occurs in the midst of wedding festivities.

_**“Anger, resentment and jealousy doesn't change the heart of others-- it only changes yours.”  
**_ ― Shannon Alder

* * *

** Chapter 6: 'Til Death Do Us Part **

**February 26th, 68 years before the Present - Land of Whirlpools** ****

  
  


Sunlight trickled in through the slats of the bamboo curtain hanging over the window, giving the small bedroom just enough of an early morning glow to rouse Michi from his peaceful slumber. He sat upright and stretched his stiff muscles, taking in precisely six deep breaths to clear his mind before getting out of bed, as was ritual for the man. After brushing his tousled hair and pulling it into a secure bun, he got dressed for the day and made his way to the kitchen. Michi prepared a pot of green tea and seated himself on a worn cushion on the front porch of his home, enjoying the warmth of the herbal drink as he re-read the letter his sister had sent him the day before. 

> * * *
> 
> _Dearest Michi,_
> 
> _Oh, how I wish greater with each passing day that you could see Konohagakure. The people here have been so welcoming; at first I feared that remaining resentments between the shinobi clans would create an air of disquietude among the populace, but instead the people are rife with joy and hope for the future. Children play unsupervised in the streets, creating a ruckus of amusement with their games of cat and mouse, their laughter like a song to ease the tensions of those going about their day. Not unlike the children of our own home, except here they are truly free! They are not so bound by the secrecy and ritual of clan life - it is a magnificent environment, and I find myself wanting for babes of my own. But enough of my attempts to convince you of your wrongness in not immigrating with me. That is not the real purpose of my correspondence._
> 
> _I apologize for not mentioning the matter sooner, but in the months since my settlement here in Konoha I have met someone; a fine man - the village leader, in fact, though that is far from his greatest quality. Yes, I am just certain you would adore him and cannot wait for you both to meet! And, you should soon have the opportunity to do so - we are to be married next month, on the twenty-fifth of March. For your sake, I convinced him to set the date after, instead of on, the day of the equinox; I know that you are required to participate in the temple ceremony then. So, I do hope you are able to attend, for I think that if my baby brother were not present I should weep with sorrow rather than joy during the union. And perhaps from anxiety as well! My future brother-in-law can be a bit much at times - my patience has never been so tested as when I am subject to his scrutinizing gaze, or witness to the nonsensical arguments shared between him and my betrothed. In truth, I don’t know the brother-in-law half as well as I should like, and I like him less than half as well as he deserves. This is not to mention that Madara Uchiha, either….anyhow, I’m sure you will find both the occasion and the company to be thrilling._
> 
> _With love,_
> 
> _Mito ~_
> 
> * * *

Much like his elder sister, Michi Uzumaki had a calm, composed personality and a great affinity for clan fuinjutsu; this is a large part of the reason he was chosen to be one of the Onmyōji - an ordained temple sentry - at the Uzushio shrine. The sentries were tasked with guarding and maintaining the room in which their sacred masks were stored, in order to prevent meddling from unordained individuals. They were also responsible for divination rituals - and thus participated in the rituals performed during a solstice or equinox - and possessed the ability to control a subset of the mask entities after being initiated and taught how to do so. Because of this, Onmyouji were some of the few clan members privy to the true functions of the masks, with individual sentries having control over a different pair of entities and the corresponding knowledge. The masks were split among sentries for security reasons, as having many individuals aware of every single secret would be a liability.

  
  


With a gentle sigh of concern for the inevitable flaring of Mito’s temper, Michi returned the scroll to the pocket within his Yukata, put away the kettle and his dishes, and set off in the direction of the shrine to begin the day’s work. It was a short journey through the village to reach the shrine, but one that still allotted enough time to admire quiet activity going on around him. Due to the early hour in which Michi departed from his dwelling, often only those more ambitious among his garden-enthused neighbors were out doing work. The effort they put in was well-rewarded, though, and the streets exploded with vibrant, sweet-smelling blossoms each spring. 

  
  


Michi tried to clear his mind as he approached the temple grounds, so as not to have his performance ruined by a foul mood. During his initiation, Michi had been assigned to two of the most sacred of the masks: the mask of the Shinigami, and the mask of a Shikigami named Kodama. The Shikigami’s mask in particular was of a high-priority, so much so that even Michi was kept in the dark regarding the complete truth of its abilities. All he knew was that it controlled a spirit that guarded one of the ancient Uzumaki shrines, located on an uninhabited island east of their own. The entire island was hidden by a seal making it imperceptible to anyone who was a non-Uzumaki; or if they were, who did not know to look for it.

  
  


After making his way through the quiet limestone hallways of the shrine, Michi reached the inner sanctum and began the task of lighting the eighteen lanterns that hung in a ring over the casting circle in the center of the room. There was one lantern for each of the ten gainen of legend, coming together to create the _Togashira_ \- Keter, Wisdom, Understanding, Judgement, Chessed, Majesty, Endurance, Yesod, and Malkuth - as well as one lantern for the spirits of the North, South, East, and West. The final four lanterns were for the Clan’s Kami - Izanagi, Izanami, Kushinadahime, and Toshigami. 

Once the lanterns were lit, Michi entered a chamber behind the sanctum, where the masks were kept. His eyes raked over their frozen faces, scanning for any details that seemed amiss. The masks were nearly identical save for a few subtle defining features, so it took a well-trained eye and strong sensory capabilities to detect any movement or changes that might have been made to them. When he found nothing out of the ordinary after his twentieth pass-over, Michi went about sweeping the floors and smudging the chambers, letting his mind wonder while he worked. 

  
  


Michi was already dreading the impending occasion of Mito’s wedding, and it was still near a month away.

  
  


* * *

**Present - Konohagakure**

  
  


Arata’s mouth had never been drier - it was as if it had been replaced with one of her father’s hellish desert dimensions, and her tongue was a resident giant-serpent trying to suffocate her. Her head was pounding, and a sharp ache periodically radiated from the base of her neck up to her temples, adding an unwanted rhythm to the pulsating waves of misery. Even her eyes lacked focus; her vision was blurry, and the light coming through the front windows exacerbated the stabbing sensation that molested her skull while she stumbled towards the common area, where Hinata and Neji were already awake and having breakfast. 

  
  


Neji heard the commotion in the hallway and looked up to see Arata as she attempted to approach them. She was flailing her arms like an angry goose and slapping the walls to find her way around, as if she couldn’t see anything or it hurt too much to try. Arata looked horrible, too; she was pasty, her kimono jacket swayed back and forth from the one arm it was attached to, there was a huge red mark on her cheek from where she’d fallen asleep on her hand, and her lips were so devoid of moisture that they actually reflected the sunlight. Yet by some miracle her hair had escaped relatively unscathed, probably because - if the hand-print was any indication - she’d slept like a rock.

  
  


“Help me, I think I was poisoned.” Arata’s voice was rough, and the texture complemented her appearance as did a dead rat accompanying the rotten smell of a neglected kitchen cabinet. 

  
  


“Technically you aren’t wrong,” Neji said. “But it's just a hangover.” 

  
  


“A what? I don’t even know-” 

  
  


The statement was cut off when she tripped down the only stair-step in the entire living space. Neji watched as she flopped, another victim of gravitational forces, and passionately kissed the ground with her face. Arata groaned and pushed herself up, rubbing the sore cheek that had so ardently assaulted the floor. 

  
  


“Fuck.”

  
  


“Arata-san, are you hurt?” Hinata reached out to try and help, voice full of concern. 

  
  


Arata waved her off, scooting forwards onto the vacant cushion closest to her like a puppy rubbing its bottom along a rug - a canine behavior often the result of an impacted anal gland - 

and settled herself in-between her new housemates.

  
  


“Just my pride. And my body. My pride and my body.” 

  
  


Arata mumbled her response while reaching for the tea kettle, prompting Neji to stop her before she could destroy the entire tea set and spill the scalding liquid all over them. He poured a cup for her instead. 

  
  


“You’re dehydrated. This is what happens when you drink too much.” 

  
  


“Well it’s a first for me. I’d rather be chidori’d again than deal with this, I never knew drinking could be so awful. All this time, I’ve been living a lie,” Arata said, a wistful look in her eyes. 

  
  


“Just one?” Neji raised an eyebrow, taunting her. 

  
  


“I mean, no, I’m sure there are at least seven - but that’s none of your business, you dunce.” 

  
  


Pouting as she sipped her tea, Arata tried to focus on the bitter flavor of the drink rather than her own embitterment, and the more fluid she took in, the less earth-shattering her symptoms became. Perhaps, she thought, these ‘hangovers’ were a curse only mortal bodies endured. The three of them sat quietly for a time, enjoying the warm refreshments and only making sparse conversation. Hinata forced Arata to eat a bowl of miso soup as well, not wanting her to faint during the day. Shizune had stopped by while Arata was still sleeping and awkwardly informed them that Arata needed to be back at the compound’s training grounds by noon for a re-assessment. It was already eleven in the morning when Arata had first woken up, but luckily for them the meeting spot was less than one hundred metres away. 

Neji had been doing nothing more than trying to keep his cool after Shizune’s departure. The previous night, after much tossing and turning, he had finally figured out what _really_ happened the day before. He didn’t like it one fucking bit, but if everyone else was going to move on then he had little choice but to do so as well. Neji looked over at Arata as she brought a spoonful of miso to her lips; her cheeks were slightly flushed from her feverish temperature, a slight stain on her incredibly pale skin. For someone who had been stabbed in the chest and murdered, gotten shit-faced a few hours later, and then been accosted by a hideous hangover, Neji thought that Arata looked quite pretty in that moment. Once again, those irrational inklings of _feelings_ left him shocked and appalled. According to Tenten, ‘the feels’ was a disease that had plagued mankind since the beginning of time; it often resulted in mistakes, heartbreak, relationships, and life altering decisions. Neji found the idea troublesome, and refused to fall victim to such a distraction. 

  
  


* * *

The copy-nin lunged forwards with his fluorescent, electrified hand aimed at Arata’s torso. It was the same attack that had assassinated her the day before, but this time there was no real intent to kill; in fact, his only reason for its use was to test Arata’s bold claim that she could deflect the attack. Otherwise, Kakashi would have spared himself the exhaustion. Arata braced herself for the impact, holding a short Bo weapon - that’d been spontaneously grown from her own bone tissue - horizontally in front of her body to block the chidori once it was within striking distance. As Kakashi’s lightning clashed with the bo, Arata absorbed the force of the impact and reflected it back at him in equal magnitude, sending the shinobi flying backwards towards the opposite end of the clearing. 

Kakashi managed to land on his feet, glancing up at his opponent in surprise as he skidded backwards on the grass. His eyes widened in shock as he watched her magnify his lighting, bolstering it with her own chakra. Little did he know that he was witnessing the only jutsu she had ever created herself. They were similar, in that regard. The Bo in her hand, which was apparently an excellent conductor, was transformed into a deadly staff of pure electricity. Acting quickly, Kakashi began assaulting her with a barrage of kunai and shuriken while he waited to see what she would do next, hoping he would find some weakness in the barrier. Arata twirled the staff in front of her body, forming an electrical barrier that deflected the onslaught of weaponry. She sprinted towards Kakashi with literal inhuman speed as his attacks fell to the ground, useless in her wake. Not that anyone expected otherwise, since he was just buying time. Leaping into the air, Arata aimed one end of her staff at the center of his chest.

Even with his Sharingan, she was moving so quickly that Kakashi had no more than a second to react to what was happening. She might _actually_ kill him; not that he wouldn’t have deserved it. In fact, she probably would have been doing him a favor. But alas, it was not his time yet, so he couldn’t allow it. This chick was on another level, Kakashi thought - he’d never seen someone wield chakra quite like she was right then. Chakra blades were no great mystery, but molding elemental chakra into a skeletal light-saber was a sight to behold. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to dodge in time, Kakashi used his only remaining trump card other than the _1,000 Years of Death_ , which would be useless in this situation.

“Kamui!” he yelled, and a spiraling void manifested in front of his eye.

Just as the arc staff would have struck a fatal blow, Kakashi’s form vanished into another dimension and reappeared several metres behind his opponent. Arata dismantled the lightning, re-infusing it with her own chakra. Once again she gripped an ‘ordinary’ Bo in hand, standing to watch the hunched over and panting Kakashi with satisfaction. 

“Give up yet, old man?” she taunted. 

Kakashi responded by settling back into his defensive stance, hands poised for combat despite the painful throbbing of his left eye. He refused to admit defeat unless Tsunade called the match. And besides, there were definitely more tricks up her sleeve.

Arata grinned maniacally as she activated the tenseigan, closing her eyes momentarily while she entered her chakra mode. A blue-green cloak of pure chakra enveloped her body while an ethereal kimono materialized in place of her clothing. Six magatama adorned the chest, stretching diagonally from her right shoulder down to her waist, and two long horns sprouted from her temples as the transformation progressed. The cyan chakra billowed as if a gust of wind were blowing upwards from the earth beneath her, which Kakashi thought was a bit too dramatic. Six black orbs appeared behind the crown of her skull, rotating in the air as her body rose off of the ground. Arata met Kakashi’s glare with equal intensity as she gently flicked her wrists and extended her palms outwards, slinging one of the orbs into the ground. Kakashi stumbled backwards when the ground below them started to shake violently. Large cracks and seams bubbling with magma split the clearing into chunks of crust that she propelled forwards, rippling in a wave of destruction that was headed straight for her opponent.

Tsunade knew then that it was time to intervene, stepping into the clearing and slamming her fist into the ground. She sent a shock wave of equivalent magnitude outwards to intercept Arata’s attack, just barely managing to cancel out and redirect its power. Their jutsu clashed with a thunderous clap as the fragmented earth coalesced into a heap of dirt and lava, the heat of which was extremely uncomfortable even at a distance. Tsunade retracted her fist and stepped into the clearing, holding up a hand to Ara. “Enough! I’m calling the match before someone gets killed. _Again_.” 

“Damn, I was just getting started,” Arata muttered. 

The cloak of chakra swiftly dissipated and her feet touched down gracefully as her appearance returned to normal. Adrenaline from the battle subsided and was replaced with guilt as she surveyed the ruined training area and the cooling chunks of lava that hissed and crackled with heat. Arata knew she had nearly gotten carried away, and loathed the fact because it reminded her of the tendencies of her father, and of _him_. Concentrating her chakra, she did her best to force the lava back into the lithosphere where it belonged, and repair the broken up earth. Once the clearing no longer presented as an all-too-real game of ‘the floor is lava’, she warily approached the onlookers.

“Lady Tsunade,” Arata bowed, “I apologize for my over-zealousness. Thank you for coming to watch.” 

“Don’t worry about it. If I could, I would have let you finish him off, but unfortunately he is still needed,” Tsunade said in a sarcastic tone. “I’m sure you understand now why I can’t have Kakashi as the sole assessor of your capabilities. He’s a pretty sore loser.” 

Suppressing the urge to sigh in despondency, Kakashi fixed Ara with an impassive gaze. “You’ve proved to be quite formidable in both taijutsu and ninjutsu, although I would still like to see more of your ninjutsu capabilities at some point.” 

“I’m happy to kick your ass whenever you feel the need to scratch that itch,” Arata mumbled before she could stop herself. 

Tsunade laughed, earning a glare from the copy-nin. “Well, we’ve come to a consensus and decided to promote you to Jonin rank, effective immediately. This is not something we _ever_ do, so do not take the opportunity lightly,” she stated. 

“Seriously? You’re making her a Jonin just like that?” Neji scoffed. 

“Wow Arata-san, congratulations!” Hinata squealed. 

“Neji, I expect you of all people to understand that we are in need of as many capable shinobi as we can get right now,” Tsunade scolded. 

“I do understand, however-”

“Tsunade is right,” Kakashi interjected. “This isn’t a matter of having earned the rank or of deserving it, Neji, but rather one of security. We can’t have someone as skilled as her walking around as a genin without arousing suspicion. Only Naruto can get away with that, because he’s lived in the village his whole life. People don’t know who Arata is, and for now it needs to stay that way.”

Neji closed his mouth, nodding in submission. Granting her that title was the logical thing to do for the time being, but he couldn’t help feeling jealous anyways. Perhaps she had been right the day before - maybe he did have a ‘fragile ego’, he thought. It was going to eat at him now. He had to grit his teeth to force out his next sentence for the sake of his job, since he was in front of the Hokage herself. 

“I apologize, Arata-san. You are more than worthy of the promotion.” 

“Thank you for your approval Neji-sama. Truly, I could not go on without it,” Arata said, feigning relief.

Kakashi didn’t have the patience to watch a pair of horny teenagers pretend not to flirt, and pulled a piece of black cloth out from one of the pouches on his vest, handing it over to Arata. Thankfully this stopped both of them from continuing to run their mouths. Arata examined the headband, noting the silver plate with the same leaf symbol the other shinobi wore on their foreheads. 

“That is your Hitai-ate. It symbolizes your allegiance and duty to Konohagakure. As a Kunoichi, wearing this means that you now represent the whole of the village, not just yourself,” Kakashi said.

This was all she had wanted since the first meeting with these people two-ish days before; their trust, she’d finally earned it. At least, some of it. She could protect them now. They would be her first step on her journey towards salvation. Arata met Tsunade’s eyes as she tied the Hitai-ate around her forehead, securing it with a tight knot at the back. It was upside-down, but Hinata decided to wait for the moment to pass before correcting it for her. Bowing to her new superiors, Arata spoke with the utmost conviction. 

“I will not disappoint you.”

* * *

**March 25th, 68 years before the Present - Konohagakure**

The day of Mito Uzumaki and Hashirama Senju’s union held a fine temperament; the afternoon sun was bright, the sky dappled by a smattering of clouds the texture of cotton, and a cool breeze wound throughout the forest, providing much-appreciated relief from the rather warm clothing worn by those in attendance. It was a small ceremony witnessed only by the couple’s closest relatives and friends, and was held in a secluded area of the bank of the Naka river that wound through the village hidden among the leaves; a riverbank of great importance to Hashirama, as it was the very spot upon which he had first met Madara when they were children. To Hashirama, this place on the Naka river symbolized the starting point from which of all of the best things that had happened throughout his life would unfold: the foundation of his most treasured friendship, the birthplace of a shared dream for peace, the realization of said aspiration, and now, the beginning of the family he would create alongside the love of his life - whom he had met thanks to the aforementioned happenings. 

As a testament to their compatibility, Hashirama and Mito chose to combine the customs of their respective clans into an intimate ceremony that was uniquely their own. For the attire, they stuck to traditional Shinto dress that was customary for that time period, save for a few accessories Mito omitted due to personal tastes. Their private guests consisted of five men - Tobirama Senju, Madara Uchiha, Sasuke Sarutobi, Ashina Uzumaki, and Michi Uzumaki - and only two women, Kameko Sarutobi - married to Sasuke - and Touka Senju, who had both become close friends with Mito. The men, including Hashirama, wore mon-tsuki haori hakamas; these consist of a traditional formal kimono known as a mon-tsuki that is adorned in family crests, or kamon, with a pair of hakama trousers, and a haori overcoat, all lacking in color. To distinguish the groom from the guests, the fabric of his hakama trousers is of a pin-striped pattern. Similarly, the women wore kimonos of subdued-color and understated print that only covered a portion of the skirt. Kameko, being a married woman, dressed in a black Tomesode with five kamon on the chest, sleeves and shoulder, and a skirt pattern depicting an ancient tortoise resting between the peaks of a valley. Touka, who was not married, wore an Irotomesode made of expensive olive-green silk, also with five kamon on the chest, and an embroidered pattern of cranes and cherry blossoms on the skirt hem.

While the guests and groom were exceptionally handsome that day, Mito Uzumaki herself was the true spectacle of the ceremony. Her dress was a cream-colored Furisode kimono lined in a vivid scarlet hue that matched their clan’s signature fire-red hair, which was styled into an elegant up-do held in place by their late mother’s camellia-shaped kanzashi hair pins. She wore a collection of kanzashi that belonged to Hashirama’s family as well, which had been passed down among the women of each generation after his great-grandmother. Also belonging to Mito’s late-mother was the maru obi tied around her waist and cascading down her back, decorated by the indigo, white, and azure scene of several the intricately swirling, deadly waves of the sea of whirlpools. Yet even more beautiful than any piece of Mito’s ensemble was the radiant smile bound to her lips and the glow of her joyful aura as she stood before the priest, facing her lover.

The ‘priest’ - who just so happened to be Ashina, the Uzumaki Clan head - and a shrine maiden from the Senju clan guided the couple through the shinto wedding ritual of _san-san-ku-do_ , or "three-three-nine-times," reflecting three oaths taken three times, represented by three cups, poured three times with sake, and swallowed in three sips. It represents man, woman and child, or heaven, earth and man, and the sharing of joys and sorrows as a married couple. After this, Mito and Hashirama knelt before an altar covered with fresh fruits and flowers as offerings to the fated divine coupling of _Izanagi-no-omei_ and _Izanami-nozomu_. They recited their vows to one another, and then the guests joined the pair in the drinking of sake before partaking in a group cheer of “Kampai!”. Then Ashina placed cuttings from a sakaki evergreen tree on top of the altar, thanking the spirits and kami watching over and blessing the ceremony. 

Approaching the end of the ceremony, the shrine maiden placed beaded-threads on both the bride and groom’s heads that were sanctified during the ceremony, and a sacred red paste made from vermilion and ash was applied to the foreheads of both the bride and the groom as a tilaka marking. 

Michi could not help but wince when the shrine maiden covered the Yin seal on Mito’s forehead, plagued by a fresh bout of cynicism regarding the clan affairs and what he symbolically perceived as the extortion of his elder sister, his parents, and his future nieces and nephews at the hands of the Senju. 

Finally, Ashina produced a tray of six candles that Mito and Hashirama lit together, symbolizing the unity of their clans. As a group, everyone recited a prepared hymn to conclude the wedding ritual: 

> _“_ _Thus have I heard it said:_
> 
> _Health is the greatest gift, contentment the greatest wealth, and faithfulness the best relationship._
> 
> _What we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday, and our present thoughts build our life of tomorrow; our life is the creation of our mind._
> 
> _If you are quiet enough, you will hear the flow of the universe. You will feel its rhythm. Go with this flow, and happiness lies ahead.”_

Michi glanced around at the other guests while they cantillated the closing scriptures, amused by the look on the infamous Madara Uchiha’s face as he mumbled bits and pieces of the rites. Madara, the unfortunate man who - to Michi - reeked of misery, acted as if the mere formation of syllables belonging to such positive words was some brutal, inhumane torture being exacted upon him. He shared in this sentiment to an extent, but Michi was nowhere near Madara in his extreme nihilism - not yet. 

The prospect of witnessing such an individual in a drunken state gave Michi something to actually look forward to during the reception, which they were now preparing to depart for. Before they left the riverbank, Mito wrapped her brother in a tearful embrace while burying her face into his shoulder. 

“Chichi, thank you for coming. I’ve missed you very much,” she said, evidently not caring if she ruined her hair or makeup - a rare display of indifference, for Mito. 

Unraveling her arms from around his waist, Michi stood her upright in front of him, clasping her hands together and covering them with his own. 

“I missed you too, aneki,” he said, using his thumb to catch the tear straying down her cheek. “I wish mother could be here. You look just like her.” 

Mito smiled, tapping their hands against the center of Michi’s chest. “Mother is here-” she paused, moving their hands backwards to rest against her own heart- “and here. Forever, within each of us. Do not weep for her absence; celebrate her spirit, knowing she is at peace.” 

“Hm.” He shifted uncomfortably, not risking further response lest he impede upon her ebullience. Mother and father may be at peace, he thought, but it shouldn’t have come at the cost of his own inner peace. 

Thankfully, Michi was rescued from his tongue-restraining predicament by none other than his new brother-in-law Tobirama, who was impatiently ushering the guests to start moving along. The reception was being held in the center of the village, and Hashirama had insisted upon inviting _the entire village population_. Undoubtedly, Tobirama was delegated the task of organizing this function, the stress of which had the man on the brink of a hysterical fit. For once Tobirama understood the appeal of drinking oneself stupid on sake as his elder brother often did; though in his mind, Hashirama had a jump-start on the stupidity aspect. 

The only requirement set for those who wished to join in on the festivities was that they too received a tilaka marking as a welcome and an expression of both honor and gratitude for their participation. After that, they were free to join the masses of inebriated shinobi and civilians. The ‘guests of honor’, or those who had attended the private ceremony, were reserved seats in a small dining area set up inside of the Shodai Hokage’s brand-new tower. Hashirama had built it himself using his wood-style jutsu, but in reality it was Tobirama’s genius behind the unique cylindrical architecture, a matter that the two had already argued about twice since arriving at the reception. As soon as the sake began to flow, however, the tension between the two brothers faded, and Tobirama even managed to find room between the sticks in his ass for a few extra drinks.

They were served a dinner of, well, a smorgasbord. Among the various dishes provided were Hashirama’s favorite mixed mushroom soup, Mito’s unusual ‘creation’ of kimchi and scallop okonomiyaki, trout kabayaki prepared with fresh-caught fish from the Naka river, and enough rice to feed the Akimichi clan for an entire day. Which was a _lot_ of rice. Also available was the simple fried-tofu and sushi rice dish _inarizushi_ , which is Madara Uchiha’s favorite and thus present at the table in an effort to keep the man content. This strategy would be tested, however, once Hashirama became drunk enough to start ragging on his old pal. Michi, who was seated between Mito and Touka Senju, heard the latter kunoichi mutter a prayer under her breath before the inebriated Hokage opened his mouth.

Hashirama leaned over in his chair, completely invading Madara’s personal space - even though he was sitting less than a foot away - in order to whisper in his ear. Unfortunately, what Hashirama thought was a whisper ended up being louder than his normal speech volume. 

“You’re up next ‘dara…and the clock is ticking, so I must tell you friendly in your ear: sell when you can - you are not for all markets.” 

Touka choked on her sake beside Michi, who was staring wide-eyed at the Hokage, unable to fathom what kind of fool he must be to say something so brazenly insulting. Madara’s irises were red and swirling with tomoe as he furiously gripped his cup of sake; Michi waited with baited breath for some level of violence to erupt, but the others around the table seemed entirely unfazed. Unknown to him, this was normal behavior for those two and nowhere near the point of physical escalation. Instead of razing the village, Madara took a bite out of his inarizushi and spoke to Tobirama without looking at him. 

“Senju. Fetch the shochu.”

“Yep.” Tobirama immediately stood up and began to leave. 

“I’ll get the Umeboshi,” Touka said, hurrying out of the room as well. 

The group dynamic was unusual to say the least, and Michi had a feeling it was about to get even weirder. Mito, privy to his unease, threw him a look as if to say ‘just go with it’. He wondered what on earth she had gotten herself involved in by entering this marriage. At least Michi could soon ease his pain with the addicting, bitter-plum taste of an Umeboshi sour.

“Oh, Madara, don’t be so sensitive-” Hashirama began to say, before being cut off.

“Do. Not. Speak. To. Me. Not until I have had my drink, _Hashirama_ ,” Madara said, all but hissing at the man. 

Hashirama slumped in his chair - crestfallen and pouting - and the two absent Senju reappeared while Mito quietly commanded Hashirama to pull himself together. Tobirama returned with not one, but four unopened bottles of shochu, which were passed around the group in haste along with a jar of umeboshi paste to mix into the liquor. Madara skipped the plum and downed an entire cup of shochu in one go. He repeated this process twice before relinquishing the empty cup in his hand to the tabletop. Leaning back in his chair, Madara allowed his eyes to fall closed for a brief moment, and then turned to look at Hashirama. 

“Speak, maggot,” he said. Madara’s cheeks were already starting to flush - a jarring sight to reconcile with the Uchiha’s reputation - as the consequences of his gluttonous thirst quickly took effect.

The Hokage perked up again. “Well, I was just saying, it's about time you settled down. Tobirama, too. Ehhh? Whaddaya say, boys?”

“Brother, your wife isn’t half as lucky as you are,” Tobirama said. 

“Now, that I can agree with.” Michi muttered his sentiments, earning himself a half-hearted slap on the arm by his sister. 

“Hashirama,” Madara said, flipping his bangs out of his eyes, “who would you have me court? I doubt any woman could meet my standards, while also putting up with my…ah...”

  
  


“Insufferable personality, lack of emotional control, violent tendencies, and superiority complex?” Tobirama suggested, filling in the blanks for him. 

  
  


“A rather harsh way to put it, but yes, I suppose I do have a slight tendency to be critical.” 

  
  


“You could have courted that Hyuga woman I set you up with, Madara, but what did you do instead? Hmm?” Hashirama asked, pointing an accusatory finger at the man. 

  
  


Touka, Mito, and Kameko were trying to suppress their laughter with mouthfuls of shochu. Ashina and Sasuke, in their infinite wisdom, decided then that it was the perfect opportunity to take their leave and go visit with the other clan heads - far away from the drunken rivals. Michi didn’t know anyone in the village, and was not yet inebriated enough to brave the unknown, so he remained in his seat to watch the spectacle. 

  
  


“I have no idea what you mean. All I did was take her on a date, like you asked,” Madara said, huffing and crossing his arms over his chest. His face was thoroughly pink by that point. 

  
  


“Oh, but wasn’t it you who took her on a walk through the forest?” Hashirama asked. When Madara pretended not to listen, he continued. “And used your Katon to light a fire when she shivered from the cold?”

  
  


“See,” Madara said, sitting up to pour another drink, “I’m a perfect gentleman.” 

  
  


“And the Katon started a forest fire that burned down a third of the Hyuga’s brand new compound?” 

  
  


“No one died. Those Hyuga are too materialistic, that’s all.”

  
  


“And then, as a last ditch effort to win her over you told her that, if married to you, she could join the collection of preserved eyeballs to be passed on to your offspring?”

  
  


“A very prestigious honor, so don’t act like that isn’t romantic, Hashirama. Women dream of growing old and senile together, do they not?” 

  
  


At the end of Hashirama’s retelling the women were in hysterics, and Mito in particular was inconsolable. Michi, thanks in large part to the alcohol tainting his blood, found himself beginning to laugh as well - though to a much lesser degree than those around him. Part of the comedy, for him, was lost to Madara’s supposed display of such utter incompetence. 

  
  


“Madara, do you realize what a headache your insolence caused me? If someone had gotten hurt there could have been a rebellion!” Hashirama exclaimed, throwing his head back dramatically and gingerly resting his palm against his forehead as if he was feeling faint.

  
  


“Brother, all you did was stutter about like a bumbling fool while _I_ sorted out the situation with the Hyuga clan leaders,” Tobirama said. “Uchiha, I should’ve sent you a bill for all of my time that you wasted - in _addition_ to the restoration invoice.” 

  
  


“God, how many times do I need to apologize for this?” Madara asked, exasperated. 

  
  


“Once would be enough.”

Madara contemplated the suggestion for a moment before downing another cup of shochu. His drinking was so severe, Michi wondered if the man was trying to kill himself. 

  
  


“No.” Madara closed his eyes after giving his verdict, so that he could ignore the nasty glares from the others. 

  
  


The atmosphere in the room had shifted, and not in a positive direction. 

  
  


“I don’t understand, Madara - why you are like this, why you self sabotage,” Hashirama said, overcome with alcohol-fueled emotions, “we finally have our chance! We can be happy, we-”

  
  


“NO!” Madara roared, flying out of his seat with enough force that his chair broke into pieces upon hitting the wall behind him. “ _WE_ don’t, Hashirama, because Izuna is still dead. It is too little too late. There is no _we_ for me, and that is almost entirely my own fault.”

  
  


“Madara, please sit down and talk to me about this, if you continue to isolate yourself from others it will drive you insane-”

  
  


“Just let it go, Hashirama. I apologize for disrupting your evening, Mito-sama. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to vomit.” 

  
  


Hashirama stood up to follow Madara out of the building, but Mito grabbed his arm to stop him, a silent conversation passing between their eyes before he relented and sat back down. Mito then shot a look towards the others, who nodded and began to stand up and leave as well. Much to Michi’s surprise even Tobirama gave in, leaving with Touka and Kameko in order to allow the newlyweds a moment of privacy. Michi’s elder sister turned to him then, taking a hold of his hand and giving it an apologetic squeeze. 

  
  
  


“Chichi, I’m sorry that you had to witness that. I’m going to stay with Hashirama until he calms down; you should go and enjoy the festivities with the others.”

  
  


“Don’t apologize, Aneki. It is foolish to think that such conflicts between these men have any regards for you. Watch out for yourself, because they will not,” Michi said, sounding much colder than he’d intended to. 

  
  


His sister stared at him, a mixture of hurt and anger swirling within her dark irises. “Why would you say such a thing?” 

  
  


Rising to his feet, Michi turned his back against his sister, refusing to look at her. “Do not forget where you come from, nor the woman whose Obi is wrapped around your waist. We are a means to an end. You will always come second to their ego, Mito.” 

  
  


Michi’s hands shook as he stepped out into the cold night air, and the resentment that had been growing like a weed in his heart ever since their parent’s deaths threatened to take control of him completely. He did not know how Mito did it, how she was able to forgive and look past the truths that were so obvious to him. Making his way to a less-populated section of the pavilion, Michi leaned against the wall of a building and tried to distract himself by people-watching. It didn’t take long for him to zone out, but the mental haze was soon interrupted by a stranger who’d sidled up next to him. 

  
  


“I take it you’re not from around here either,” the man said. 

  
  


Glancing over at the stranger, Michi nodded. “Nope. Just here to attend the wedding. The bride is my sister. You?”

  
  


His head and the lower half of his face were covered by a cloth Sōhei cowl - indicative of a warrior monk - but Michi noticed the man’s near-completely black eyes flash in surprise before he answered. 

  
  


“A traveling monk. I happened to pass through at the perfect time, it seems.”

  
  


“Sure, if you enjoy these kinds of things. Though I wouldn’t expect a warrior monk to be a party-goer.”

  
  


“Ah, you’ve caught me out,” the man laughed. 

“Perhaps you can entertain me with stories of your travels, then. Uzumaki Michi, by the way,” he said with a short bow of his head. 

  
  


The man smiled. “Jigen. A pleasure to meet you - shall we find someplace quiet to converse?”

* * *

_Kurama-Hime_ , portrait by me.

More info on Tomesode if you're interested: [link](https://cafe-kimono.com/en/about-tomesode-the-ranks-formal-kimono-best-way-to-wear/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the flash to the past, because its the first part of a side story about the inception of - well, I'll let you take a guess. Michi Uzumaki is...sort of an original character. More like an original backstory. You'll see. Also, if you want to know what happened(nothing important lol) during the Konoha 11 gathering, check out chapter 6 of my other story, Exegesis(the uh, rough draft version of this story, if you aren't aware). It's pretty crack-y and completely ridiculous. I couldn't come up with a good enough reason to try and tone it down for this rewrite because, yeah, nothing important happens. It's just filler, with a dash of OC/Neji horniness that is pretty ironic. Sometimes you just gotta cringe at yourself and move on.
> 
> Side note - in the timeline I'm going off of, the village was founded 50 years before Naruto's birth. Also, yes, as of the latest Boruto chapter, Jigen is confirmed to be hundreds of years old. I didn't just pull that out of my ass, haha.


	7. Tulips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata awakens her true self, Sasuke contemplates life, and Neji just can't catch a break. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: brief depictions of childhood abuse, thought disorder, and hallucinations.

_**"To anyone that ever told you you're no good ... they're no better."** _

\- Hayley Williams

* * *

**Chapter 7: Tulips**

**May - Konohagakure**

The sun shone high in the sky, glinting off of the droplets of sweat running down Arata and Hinata’s faces. Arata stood with her hands on her hips, watching her hunched over and panting ‘student’ - a loose term, because in truth the teaching went both ways. In the month since Arata’s arrival, the two women had been training intensely during their time in-between missions. Which was a lot of time, because Arata’s missions were nonexistent unless you included periodic interviews with the Hokage and the intelligence division as ‘missions’, and Hinata just hadn’t been assigned very many to begin with. 

  
  


Arata had been gradually chipping away at Hinata’s walls, apparently desperate to release her passion and rage from the cage of restraint it had been kept inside of for so many years. A few days ago, Hinata told her about how Hiashi appointed Neji to lead their clan’s division in battle instead of her, and Arata finally gleaned some real understanding as to what Hinata was trying to suppress. 

  
  


“Hinata,” she said. 

  
  


“Yes, Arata-sensei?”

  
  


“My entire life before coming here, I lived in the prison my abusive father created for me. I was not allowed outside of the village, and could only talk to the people he personally approved of. If I disobeyed or questioned his will, he would beat me, or torture me. At one point he began performing medical experiments on me as well.”

  
  


“Arata-san...” Hinata whispered, unsure of what she could say to comfort her companion. 

  
  


A small part of her wondered if Arata’s father could perhaps be Orochimaru, because Orochimaru was infamous for his experiments, was pale enough, had black hair, yellow eyes, and even had sort of similar eye markings. However, Arata said she was from the Land of Grass, and Orochimaru’s goons always came from Otogakure. 

  
  


Thinking back to her childhood, Hinata recalled the old emotions she had long since learned to ignore. Back when she was a young girl, though, they would hit her like a wave of acidic water, threatening to seep through the cracks in her resolve and fill her core with rot. Hinata remembered how she felt worthless when her father berated her, powerless when he forced her to spar against shinobi who far outclassed her abilities, helpless while her own family members beat her weakened body to the brink of death without ever actually killing her, just so she could experience it all over again the following week, empty when Hiashi had disinherited her after she refused to harm her younger sister, and broken while she recovered from the brutal fight against Neji during the chunin exams, thinking that she really _was_ destined to be a failure and that no one could ever understand the pain she was in. 

  
  


“It’s okay. I used to pity myself, but then I realized that none of it was my fault. That it wasn’t me who was the problem. Do you know what else I realized?” Arata asked. 

Hinata shook her head. In a flash of lightning-quick speed, Arata’s fist became a ball of electricity and she lunged at the training dummy nearest to her, eviscerating the piece of equipment and leaving the resulting debris to catch flame in the dirt. Retracting her hand calmly, Arata turned to face Hinata once more. 

  
  


“I realized that my father and everyone else who facilitated the abuse is a piece of shit, and that just because he is ‘family’, that doesn’t mean he has the right to control me, or to determine my worth as a person. Blood alone does not determine familial bonds. And so, I am becoming powerful in _spite_ of him, not because of him.” 

  
  


All her life, Hinata had been soft-spoken and polite. She always followed the rules, always used the proper honorifics, always treated people with kindness. Hinata always put other people first rather than thinking or caring about herself, she was always prioritizing someone else’s feelings and well-being. She absolutely _hated_ confrontation, and especially hated being confronted about said hatred. So, she has always been seen as timid and weak by others, an image not helped by her proclivity for overwhelming kindness, or tendency to clam up, and at times to literally faint from both the fear of offending someone and the effort of _not_ offending anyone. 

  
  


These were traits which her father had fought like a madman to change, continually pushing Hinata towards and past her limits, physically and psychologically. Unfortunately for his goals and also for Hinata, reaching her child self’s psychological limit had meant retreating further into shell. Like a turbulent river, her father’s mistreatment and disappointment eroded away at the rocky shores of her self-confidence, until what might have been a beautiful gorge became a flat and unremarkable pebble beach. Until Hinata placed so little faith in her own thoughts and opinions that she stopped sharing them, even if someone genuinely wanted to hear either of those things.

  
  


But what good reason, she now asked herself, had her father ever given for those traits he so hated to be considered bad or weak in the first place?

  
  


Kindness and compassion weren’t weak, this she knew for sure. Only a coward refused to step into the shoes of his enemy: to see that subjective experiences mattered, that everyone had their own reasons and justifications for doing things, that suffering was universal, and that perhaps a foe was not truly evil or less-good than themselves, but instead was simply responding to the same kind of pain in a different way than most would.

  
  


Hinata did not verbally respond, but she knew Arata could see the sparks of fury in her eyes as they both faced their dummies and took up a fighting stance. They resumed practicing the lyrical movements of the gentle-fist art, both ignoring the smoldering mess that had become Arata’s previous opponent. After their eighth cycle through the motions, they activated their byakugan simultaneously. Arata infused the dummies with some of her chakra, artfully shaping its flow to mimic the chakra pathways and tenketsu points of a flesh-and-blood opponent.

  
  


“Eight trigrams, sixteen palms!” they shouted in unison. Hinata, thanks to Arata, had recently come to realize that there was no real reason to announce what technique she was using out loud. However, it was still helpful in training, making it easier for them to stay in-sync.

  
  


Arata watched from the side as Hinata expertly prodded the imaginary pressure points, the anatomy so ingrained in her mind that she could have hit them without looking; something Arata had made a reality by convincing Hinata to spend an entire week training while blindfolded, and without using her byakugan to cheat the blindfold either. Hinata was far cleverer than she let on, Arata quickly realized, and had memorized the anatomical structures, figuring out how to sense and seek out the tenketsu points using only her chakra. She had come a long way since the beginning of their training sessions - just a few weeks ago sixteen palms would have already been half-way to the kunoichi’s limit, and now it was their starting point.

  
  


The entire thing was a bit comical, since Arata was far from being an expert in the art of ninjutsu. In fact, Hinata was still perplexed as to how she had mastered the gentle fist techniques in the first place, considering that she never crossed paths with any known masters, and did not grow up living with the clan. Unbeknownst to her, Arata was wondering the same thing about the Hyuga clan. But Hinata never asked; naturally, she didn’t want to offend Arata by doing so. Nonetheless, Hinata had been able to teach Arata some things in return, such as the substitution technique. Arata had begged Hinata to teach her the multi shadow clone technique as well - apparently unaware of its kinjutsu status - but Hinata didn’t know it herself. 

  
  


So, being both bitter and unwilling to go without learning the jutsu, Arata tried to guilt Kakashi into teaching her instead. This was wildly unsuccessful. In the end, however, Arata managed to learn on her own - by spying on Kakashi’s training sessions, and observing his chakra network whenever he formed additional clones. She eventually deduced the method, and immediately began testing how many clones she could make at once. Last Hinata heard, she was up to four-hundred and thirty seven. 

  
  


It worried the village elders, and sparked rumors about Arata being a secret jinchuuriki. Of what? Well, that didn’t matter so much as the intrigue did. But whenever anyone questioned her abilities, Arata simply replied that ‘motivated people find a way’.

  
  


“Alright, Hinata - show me what you can do.”

  
  


“Yes, Arata-sensei,” she responded. “Eight trigrams, thirty-two palms!”

  
  


They both increased their pace, and Hinata’s breathing picked up in proportion with the added effort. Arata knew Hinata wasn’t at her limit yet, though, and she was determined to push her past it that day. 

  
  


“Is that all you’ve got? Come on, Hinata!”

  
  


> _Neji stood over her, fist clenched, jaw set, and without a drop of sweat on his face. He had defeated her effortlessly. Meanwhile, Hinata lay in a trembling heap on the ground, desperate to hold in every whimper of pain that bubbled in the back of her throat. Daring to glance at her father, she saw that he had risen from his seat in order to better look down upon her._
> 
> _“Is that it, you’ve no more fight? Come on, Hinata!”_

  
  


“I’m trying, Arata-sensei,” she panted. 

  
  


“I know you’re not maxed out yet. Let it all out!” Arata demanded between hits.

  
  


> _Her chest heaved violently as she coughed, speckling the ground with blood and saliva after each rough wheeze. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony when she tried and failed again to get back up onto her feet._
> 
> _“I c-can’t get up,” Hinata choked out._
> 
> _Another hard kick to the abdomen sent her flying back towards the wall, mind reeling from the unimaginable physical pain accompanied by the blow._
> 
>   
>    
> 

“I can’t,” Hinata cried. But despite her confidence-lacking words, the speed of her jabs never slowed.

  
  


“That’s bullshit and you know it. You’ll never surpass him if you don’t overcome this, Hinata. Quit 

holding back!”

  
  


> _“You’re pathetic, Hinata. You’ll never surpass your cousin if you don’t abandon that weak personality,” Hiashi spat._
> 
> _Hinata didn’t understand how she was supposed to change her personality. She had been like this forever. Obviously it was possible, though, and she was just too stupid to figure out how to do it. Time was running out for her to get it together - she was only getting older, after all._
> 
> _Today was her seventh birthday._

  
  


Arata knew she had struck a nerve, and stopped to observe when something snapped inside of the young kunoichi. A roaring fire ignited her gaze, and in less than fifteen seconds the training dummy was on its last legs. Arata took the opportunity to summon a barrage of shadow clones, sending them after Hinata in waves. Her heart swelled with pride while she watched her adapt, taking them down in droves. 

  
  


“Eight trigrams, sixty-four palms!” Hinata shouted.

  
  


Hinata's fists became a flurry of deadly punches, moving faster than any ordinary eye would be able to keep track of. Arata found herself creating more and more shadow clones in order to maintain the challenge, sending them in groups of nearly thirty at a time while sweat poured down her face and back from the effort.

  
  


“Hinata, don’t stop now - take back your power!”

  
  


The day that she reached her limit seemed to have finally come along, and Hinata decided to just let herself feel every emotion she’d shoved down and bottled away over the years; she stopped fighting back. It was the most excruciating moment thus far in her life - even more painful than when she thought she’d failed Naruto, after being put down by Pain like a lame horse - but it passed. She survived, and she would become stronger because of it. Hinata broke through the surface of her ocean of hurt and allowed herself to breathe for the first time since her seventh birthday. She would never stop letting herself breathe again. She would _never_ go back to that place, back to being that weak girl who let others determine her worth.

  
  


Screaming with determination, Hinata unleashed the infernal resentment that had built up within her. A stream of curses exploded from the depths of her consciousness, as shadow clones poofed out of existence almost more quickly than Arata could create them. Hinata’s chakra began gathering in her fists in the form of blue flames. 

  
  


“Fuck you, father. You are the one who is weak. How dare you belittle me - I may forgive you, but I’ll never forget!”

The chakra shrouds covering her fists transformed, taking the shape of two massive lion-heads. Arata stopped her shadow clone assault and stood back to witness the kunoichi’s evolution - and also because the collective pain memory of her bygone clones was starting to get to her. 

  
  


What Hinata was about to perform was a unique jutsu she had created herself, and had used on that fateful day when she stood up against Pain. But she had not used it since then, she had let that moment of inspiration fall to the wayside, back into the bottomless chasm of self-loathing. 

  
  


Now, she reached into that pit and pulled it out, re-infusing it with her heart - where it ought to be.

  
  


“Gentle Step: Twin Lion Fists!”

  
  


At that point Hinata was in an almost manic state of hyper-focused killing intent. Well, not quite killing intent, since she didn’t have a living target, but as close to killing intent as one could get while training. She pummeled the last of the shadow clones into puffs of air and rammed the ground with her fists once there was nothing else to murder the shit out of, and the force of the impact sent a shock-wave rippling through the clearing - all the way to the edge of the forest and beyond. Her energy spent, Hinata suddenly snapped out of her heightened state of consciousness, kneeling on the ground in a daze as she fought to control her breathing. 

  
  


Arata walked over and crouched down next to her.

  
  


“Hinata, pick up your head,” she commanded. “Look at what you just did.”

  
  


Hinata reluctantly pulled her chin out of her chest, taking in the scene before her. The patch of forest that had existed only moments before was now an amalgamated mess of splintered and broken trees. Her volley of destruction cut a clear path of ruin through the surrounding nature, reaching nearly a kilometre away from their position before it stopped. Thankfully, they were training a good five kilometres or so outside of the village.

  
  


“I...I did that?” Hinata whispered. 

  
  


“You did that, Hinata. Not me, not Naruto, not Hiashi, not Neji - _you_ ,” Arata replied. 

  
  


Even though all she’d done was make a mess of some innocent flora, Hinata still felt powerful. Not because of the destruction itself, but because she’d allowed herself to cause it. She allowed herself to _let go_ , to stop holding back, to stop holding in everything. Instead of worrying about someone else, she’d gone and done precisely what she wanted to do. 

  
  


“I did that,” she repeated, her voice rising in volume. “Yeah, of course. I did that.”

  
  


They both stood up and faced one another, and Arata placed her hands on Hinata’s shoulders. Hinata had suspected her to be an empath of some sort since the day that they met, so she couldn’t tell if Arata was emotional for her, because of her, or with her. However, it didn’t matter either way, because they were sharing this moment, this relinquishing of anguish, together. Both women had tears in their eyes, but they didn’t cry. Not yet. 

  
  


The old Hinata would have already let the tears flow and dismissed her achievement, but now she was someone new. There was no longer a scared, broken, and beaten-down little girl standing in that field; instead there was a powerful, unashamed woman who wasn’t going to take shit from anyone ever again.

  
  


“From this day forward, Hinata Hyuga, you are stepping out of the shadows and into the light. Never again will you let a single person - regardless of who the fuck they think they are - tell you that you aren’t good enough,” Arata said.

  
  


“I am good enough,” Hinata repeated with confidence. “I was _always_ fucking good enough.”

  
  


While it may have seemed a tad cheesy or dramatic to an observer, neither woman gave a damn. Men spoke in poetry to one another, screamed curses, and gave emotional monologues all of the time, sometimes in the middle of battle; why should it be shameful for a woman to do the same? Why should that make them histrionic, or hysterical? It should not, they decided, and sent their small inkling of self-consciousness back into the void of ignorance from whence it came.

  
  


In a much-needed twist of fate, Arata - as in, someone _else,_ and not Hinata - was the one to cry first, and the two women embraced as tears finally began to stream down their cheeks. 

  
  


Arata had never witnessed such an incredible blossoming of character, and to watch a soul such as Hinata’s burst out of its shell was a thing the beauty of which could only be experienced once in a lifetime. Everything that had happened to Aratashiki, her horrible childhood and imprisonment, garnered her the knowledge she needed to be there for Hinata. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that she’d ended up in this village for a reason, a reason that had little to do with Kaguya or anyone else in her family. Arata didn’t know what that reason explicitly was, and perhaps she never would, but it was there. A profound sense of fulfillment ballooned in her chest, accompanying the realization that she had been able to provide for Hinata that which Arata had also so desperately needed as a young girl:

  
  


Someone to believe in her, so that she could believe in herself. 

  
  


* * *

**Elsewhere**   
  
  


> _“You weren’t able to pierce through any of the illusions he created,” Madara said, gripping a kunai and walking over to where Sasuke sat slumped against the wall. “Itachi killed his friends, his superiors, his lover, his father, his mother - but he couldn’t kill his little brother.”_
> 
> _Standing before him, Madara squatted until his one visible eye was level with Sasuke’s, and held the kunai in front of the orange, swirling mask that covered the old Uchiha’s face._
> 
> _“He killed every shred of feeling in his heart in order to slaughter his own kin, for the sake of his village-” Madara swept the kunai down and across the ropes binding Sasuke’s wrists “-but he just couldn’t bring himself to kill_ **_you_ ** _.”_
> 
> _The blood was roaring in Sasuke’s ears. He was unable to look away from Madara, petrified by and transfixed upon his every word, mind trying and failing to make logical sense of what he was being told._
> 
> _“Do you understand what that means?”_

  
  


Sasuke snapped back into the present. His hands had been clawing at the soft grass underneath him, unconsciously clenching and ripping out handfuls of the stuff. He could smell the grass’s distress: it was the scent of green leaf volatiles, Jugo had explained to him once, a chemical released by the plant whenever it experienced trauma. It smelled sweet and green like the chlorophyll providing its color. Sasuke wondered if it was the same for the grass as when a human cried. 

  
  


When people were in distress, did they also smell sweet and red like the blood flowing through their veins? 

  
  


He had never noticed such a thing from a sobbing or heartbroken individual, only the metallic scent of blood from those who were physically injured, and there was nothing sweet about that smell. Raising his arm to his face, Sasuke gave his skin a good sniff; but all he could detect was sweat, and there was no underlying aroma to hint at his tumultuous internal state. So maybe, maybe it was just the blood that was a human’s distress signal, maybe traumas of the mind didn’t have a smell. The grass wasn’t crying, then, it was bleeding - that seemed very obvious once he thought it through, and like the most logical conclusion, to Sasuke. 

  
  


Itachi bled when he died. Which shouldn’t have been a surprise to Sasuke, but nonetheless he’d found himself nonplussed while Itachi had dragged his broken body forwards, all but choking on the blood that welled in his throat and trickled from the corners of his mouth. Itachi Uchiha, a man of God-like powers - at least in Sasuke’s mind - had, in the end, still been just one of a billion sentient bags of flesh roaming the Earth, had still bled as any other man would, had still died and uttered his final words in the company of another. 

  
  


He was never evil, never invincible, never ascendant like he pretended to be; no, Itachi Uchiha was human, as human as any other human Sasuke had ever known.

  
  


‘Human’ should not be confused with goodness, however; ‘human’ simply implies the presence of a specific level of complexity derived from the unique combination of _homo sapiens_ with the capability of having subjective experiences. 

  
  


To say that Itachi was a hero or even a good man would be an outright lie. It would be shameless and disrespectful to not only his victims, but also to heroes and to good men. A hero did not slaughter their family indiscriminately, did not drive a katana through the chest of a young mother and her wailing infant, did not skewer children as they slept, did not cut the throats of unarmed men who were unable to defend themselves or their families. A hero did not compound the trauma of his eight year old brother, nor did he repeat this action when his brother was twelve; and a good man certainly never did these things, either. 

  
  


While it may be true that Itachi himself had been deeply traumatized at just five years old, had been taken advantage of by the adults and leaders in his life, and had been brainwashed into becoming some nationalistic zombie, Itachi was still not a hero. He may have gone completely, irreversibly, and profoundly **insane** the night of the massacre, but that did not make him a ‘good man’ deep down. Doing everything thereafter in the name of his beloved little brother’s well-being did not excuse the harm he caused, it did **not** make him ‘a good man who was unfortunately enslaved by insanity’. 

  
  


The fact of the matter was that Itachi had not properly lived within reality since the night of the massacre, and likely hadn’t for years before then as well. Itachi often spoke of false-realities, illusions and ignorance, yet he himself was a perpetrator of all three. 

  
  


**_“People live their lives bound by what they accept as correct and true….their "reality" may all be a mirage. Can we consider them to be simply living in their own world, shaped by their beliefs?”_ **

  
  


His own exact words revealed the devastating truth about Itachi Uchiha’s world, about his reality. Itachi was bound by his duty to the village and his Will of Fire, which he accepted as correct and true. In his own world, killing everyone he loved for the sake of that village was also right and true. It was his belief that the best thing he could do for Sasuke was to force him to live with the aftermath, to torment him, to make it so that Sasuke could become strong and could avenge his clan. 

  
  


Because that was what _Itachi_ wanted, and that was not selfless, it was wholly selfish. It was not for Sasuke’s benefit. No, all of it was for Itachi’s own sake because he needed it to happen. He needed someone to have revenge on him so that he could at least say that his family received justice. He needed to believe that what he was doing to Sasuke was correct and true, because he couldn’t handle the reality that he was ruining his brother’s life, that he had spared Sasuke in vain. That it had all been in vain. 

  
  


Itachi lived in his fantasy world, where he was a tragic hero and where he was making things right, or as right as they could be. But that wasn’t consistent with reality. In fact, it was so far removed from reality, that it was incredibly disturbing that Itachi managed to so thoroughly blind himself in the first place. Itachi coped with his life in a way that only someone who was totally insane could cope. So no, he was not a hero or a good man, he was flawed and human like everyone else. 

  
  


Obviously, this did not make Itachi special. Rather, it made him unremarkable in a fundamental and brutally honest way. 

  
  


Sasuke knew all of this, and yet he could not accept it, he could not cope as Itachi had. He thought that everything in his heart had already been killed, but after learning the truth about his brother, another hidden piece of Sasuke had shriveled up and died. There was nothing left - so he thought - to hold his fragile, necrotic mind together, and so it had shattered. Sasuke became completely unhinged; he went on a suicide mission to battle against the five Kage, he killed Danzo and avenged his brother, he fought his own teammates with the intent to end their lives. He thought that doing this might grant him some relief, or some peace.

  
  


Yet after all of that, Sasuke still felt utterly empty, and an infinite nothingness yawned and stretched within the cavity of his body. Like the moon, Sasuke was a desolate, dusty rock suspended in a vacuum, a mere remnant of what once might have been something more. 

  
  


The sun beat down on Sasuke as he laid in the grass, making fractals of the sweat coating his warm and sticky flesh. Squinting, he turned his eyes to the relentless celestial presence: the sun. It never left. Each day it rose again and each night it fell beyond the horizon in a ceaseless cycle. Even underground he could not escape its influence, because the sun affected everything - its solar radiation was instrumental to all environmental processes, and there were no exceptions to that rule. But Sasuke knew that it was more than just the sun in the sky that he could not escape.

  
  


Sasuke was bound to another sun, one he had tried to push away, to cut ties with, to _kill_. He was never able to kill his sun, though, and he knew he never would be. It had always been that way, and anything that spoke to the contrary was a facade and a front that Sasuke put up in order to avoid facing the truth of their bond. 

  
  


Like the star at the center of their solar system, Naruto’s light was in everything. Naruto _was_ everything. Naruto was the _only_ thing.

  
  


And Naruto was the one thing that Sasuke could not have. His ultimate desire, which he did not deserve. When Sasuke had nothing left, he still had Naruto; but he didn’t get to have Naruto, so instead he had nothing. 

  
  


His head rolled to the side, and when the sun spots cleared from Sasuke’s eyes they became transfixed on a bright patch of orange and red tulips growing nearby. They were breathtaking, and so beautiful - Sasuke wondered how he hadn’t noticed them before. 

  
  


“You have no face,” they said to him.

  
  


The flowers spoke in a lilted, faerie-like tune. It was a strange sound, stranger than the talking flowers themselves, but it was nice and felt like company; company was the opposite of loneliness, of his constant state of being alone. Their presence moved Sasuke, and he almost felt as if they had bloomed out of sheer love for him.

  
  


“I wish to efface myself,” Sasuke replied. 

  
  


“Shine down, Great Sun, on flower and field,” the Tulips began to sing. “And never say goodbye-”

  
  


On an impulse, Sasuke reached out and plucked one of the Tulips, wishing to inhale its scent and to study its vibrance up close. The music stopped, replaced by screams once the small roots emerged from the ground. 

  
  


“Forever and ever give us your light,” Sasuke said, joining in with the chorus.

  
  


He was not bothered by their wailing. 

  
  


“From out the wide blue sky.”  
  


* * *

**Konohagakure**   
  


Neji ambled along the deserted road, taking his precious, sweet time. He was sent out to check on Hinata and Arata, who had been gone all day since they left to train.

  
  


It was the longest stretch of peace and quiet Neji had gotten all month. 

  
  


After spending so much time together in those initial few weeks, he and Arata had grown more accustomed to the other’s presence. Neither of them would ever admit it, but they had even begun to _enjoy_ one another's company. In small doses, of course, which was in part due to the increasingly suffocating tension that existed between the two. At least, from Neji’s end. Regardless, the idea of eventually becoming ‘friends’ seemed less and less ludicrous with each passing week.

  
  


On the contrary, Arata had already become extremely close with his cousin Hinata, and by extension had become friends with Ino, Sakura, and Tenten. They even considered her a part of their ‘inner circle’ now, magnetized by her peculiar and sometimes unpredictable personality, that often could leave one feeling like they had whiplash. 

  
  


Despite her acceptance into that particular group, however, Arata was far removed from fitting in. Even with her somewhat disguised appearance and the seal on her back, she stood out from the rest of the village. It was understandably difficult to hide power like that. Nevermind her constant need to wear gloves or wrappings of some kind in order to conceal the eyes in her palms. A habit which was not at all unusual for a shinobi; but Arata was a mysterious and formidable outsider, and supposedly a relative of the Hyuga - from a long-since defected branch of the family - and so the ritual was novel. The civilians and shinobi alike watched Arata with curious gazes, like an exotic animal in a sprawling menagerie. 

  
  


Something she evidently was aware of, as indicated by her undiscussed refusal to wear the hitai-ate she’d been given. Neji knew it was not for lack of duty, and so it must have been due to something more personal, of which self-denial or alienation seemed the likely culprit. However, it was not a subject Neji ever brought up, as he did not feel like he could provide any meaningful discussion around the matter, nor did he desire to make her uncomfortable by crossing such a personal boundary unprovoked. 

  
  


A mayfly buzzed dangerously close to Neji’s face, and as he lifted his eyes to swat it away he noticed that the sun was already starting to set. Quickening his pace, he jogged the rest of the way to where he had spotted both of their chakra signatures emanating from with his byakugan.

  
  


As Neji approached their location, he struggled to make sense of the scene in front of him. A square kilometre of forest had been destroyed, and two training dummies were mutilated beyond repair. Amidst it all stood the tightly-embracing figures of Hinata and Arata as they violently trembled and sobbed in one another's arms. Neji couldn’t make heads or tails of whether or not he was seeing tears, sweat, snot, or all three covering their faces. 

  
  


“What the hell happened?” he yelled while running towards them, worried that they had been attacked.

  
  


Arata lifted her head from Hinata’s shoulder, sniffling and choking as she attempted to answer. “Hinata is a strong, independent woman and she doesn’t need the approval of men!”

  
  


Neji stared at them in confusion. “What?”

  
  


“I am worthy! Appreciate my empowerment, Neji!” Hinata shouted between hiccups. “Like a hermit sage, I have emerged from a dark cave of doubt to show my true self to the world!”

  
  


“I don’t even know what that means,” Neji said. 

  
  


This was way above his pay-grade, and Neji wasn’t being paid a dime for this retrieval errand in the first place; he had no idea how to handle his own emotions, let alone the emotions of two hormonal women. So, Neji did what his mother would have done, and the only thing he knew to do.

  
  


Neji took a deep breath before reaching out and gently patting each of them on the head.

  
  


“There, there, little birds,” he said in the most unnatural and forced tone they had ever heard from anyone - ever - that probably only he could pull off. 

  
  


Immediately, the two women stiffened in shock, slowly turning their heads to stare at him with wide-eyes. Neji swallowed nervously, removing his hands and preparing to apologize - and then they exploded with laughter. 

  
  


“What on earth, Neji, that was so out of character,” Hinata wheezed.

  
  


“I didn’t know you were bilingual, you never said you could speak motherese,” Arata mocked.

  
  


They were practically howling at that point, bracing their hands on their knees to keep from collapsing. He couldn’t understand why they needed to make such a big scene of it, he was only trying to help. Besides, what was so odd about what he said as to beget hilarity? Neji turned his back to them, face hot enough that one surely could have fried an egg on it. He dug his nails into his palms, resisting the urge to run off towards where the Nakano diverged and to launch himself off of the surrounding cliffs. Of course, a volcano would have been more preferable to a turbulent river, but there were not any nearby, so he wasn’t going to be _that_ picky. 

  
  


“Tenten is having a girls’ get together. She said to be at Barbe-Q in two hours.”

  
  


Neji’s voice barely rose above a whisper when he spoke, and then he began speed-walking back to the village, unsure of whether he wanted to cry or get drunk when he returned. Maybe he could even settle for both. 

  
  


Arata and Hinata eventually calmed down enough to stand up and look at each other.

  
  


“Damn, we look like shit,” Arata commented.

  
  


“Yeah,” Hinata agreed. “What a day…” 

  
  


They sprinted to catch up with Neji, much to his annoyance, and looped their arms with his so that he was trapped between the pair. Arata and Hinata stared at him as they walked, biting back giggles when he started to blush again. 

  
  


"Would you two cut it out? You positively _reek_ ," he huffed. 

  
  


"Ah, but Neji-kun, that's just the smell of our feminine pheromones," Arata taunted in a sultry voice. 

  
  


It did not happen frequently, but whenever Aratashiki _did_ use that honorific around him it filled Neji with irritation more quickly than even Lee was able to do. 

  
  


"Well if that's the case, consider me a gay man." 

  
  


"But Neji nii-san, if you don't cuff Arata then someone else might," Hinata stated. 

  
  


Part of him wanted to joke that he’d already arrested her once, but that would only prolong the banter, and by extension his humiliation. His cousin knew him too well, sometimes, and despite her outward innocence Hinata had not encountered any trouble sniffing out Neji’s irrational physical attraction to their guest. It wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t just decide someone was unattractive after the thought had already crossed his mind. At least, that’s how he rationalized it to himself. 

  
  


Neji coughed, increasing his pace until they struggled to keep up without being dragged by their feet. He sensed a shift in Hinata, something subtle but important, and to him she was acting very strange. Normally she wouldn't even be able to think about the concept of romance without asphyxiating, let alone _joke_ about such things. And the way she was drawing out the word ‘nii-san’ right now sent chills down his spine, and not the pleasurable kind. 

  
  


“Oh, nii-san is feigning ignorance,” Hinata jeered, successfully grating even further on his nerves.

  
  


He yanked his arms from their grasp, wondering what kind of drugs Arata had given his cousin. Without giving either of them the satisfaction of a response, Neji broke out into a sprint once again, effectively leaving them in the dust. Hinata winked at Arata, who had remained uncharacteristically silent during her teasing - well, silent relative to their specific relationship, because Arata was somewhat quiet in general contexts - before they both started running as well, following him the rest of the way to the village.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When the women finally made it back to the Hyuga compound Neji was nowhere to be found, so they decided to use the opportunity to bathe in the private hotspring and relax their muscles. They made light chatter while they scrubbed away literal blood, sweat and tears, and nearly forgot that they were supposed to be somewhere soon. 

  
  


“Ah, we need to go change,” Arata said, once she noticed the darkness beyond the narrow window slats at the top of the walls. 

  
  


They wrapped themselves in towels and headed off towards their respective rooms, and Arata stopped by the sink in the kitchenette to hydrate herself. She heard the door to the common area open and spun around to see who it was, coming face-to-face with Neji; because who else would just barge in, if not one of the residents? She immediately started turning red, redder than a tomato. Maybe she was actually a tomato and not an Otsutsuki, Arata thought, that would explain why she was so different from the rest of them. 

  
  


Right now, she was standing in nothing but a towel with Neji Hyuga looking right at her. This was just like the dreams she had, except not at all, and way more horrifying. If anyone was going to see her naked - which was a big ‘if’ at the time - it was going to be on her own terms. 

  
  


Neji decided there and then that some evil deity must be out to get him. All he wanted to do was grab the wallet he had forgotten, _without_ ending up in any more embarrassing situations. But no, the incident earlier apparently hadn’t been enough, and this had to happen as well. He had thought about seeing her naked more often than he ought to about any female acquaintance, but this was just awkward. The towel barely covered her chest and only just touched the tops of her smooth thighs. If she turned around he would probably be able to see her- no, Neji thought. He had to stop this train of inner dialogue before he pitched a tent in their living room, even if it was technically camping season. 

  
  


What was the most unsexy thing he could think about? Neji wondered. Probably his uncle, naked. Yes - Hiashi and his sagging, old-man testicles. 

  
  


Aratashiki and Neji just stood there, mortified and staring at each other. She noticed his eyes starting to drift downwards towards where the towel only partially covered her breasts, which for some reason caused her to startle and drop her glass of water. 

  
  


“If you don’t stop looking at me....I’ll hit you,” Arata growled. 

  
  


Hinata heard the commotion and popped her head outside of her door. She looked at Neji, then at Arata, and then back at Neji. Storming out of her room wearing nothing but a set of more fashionable than functional underwear, which only worsened the situation, Hinata and her raised fist made a beeline straight for her cousin. If someone were to walk in right then, they might think that something scandalous and extremely improper was going on between the three of them. 

  
  


“Neji, I can’t believe you’ve done this! How perverted-” 

  
  


“Uh, sorry.”

  
  


Neji knew that there was no talking his way out of that one. He didn’t even try to make an excuse or insult her appearance to save face, opting to turn around and walk right back out of the door instead. Wallet be damned, he could get Kiba to cover his portion, he thought. The guy owed him around three-hundred Ryo, anyways.

Now, Neji decided, he was _definitely_ going to drink.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I would have this chapter out last week, and I apologize for that not happening. I was crunching to finish my coursework AND also distracted trying to finish a short story. Sigh. But I've finally worked out the things I want to change and am genuinely excited about this rewrite now(even more so than the original - I've gone down the path of angst....and I can't go back lol). So, I've decided to focus more on this story for the time being, outside of school. Woo!
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and that you will enjoy Hinata's character development(which will NOT be as extreme as in Exegesis because, ugh). Also, I realize it probably was not obvious before, but yes - Sasuke is one of the main characters/perspectives, and Sasuke/Naruto is listed in the ship tags for a reason. This is because, simply put, there will be significant changes to Sasuke's life and relationship with Naruto due to 'the arrival'. For a good while, his perspective is going to be the darkest one featured, and I don't tip-toe around mental illnesses - so prepare yourselves. x


	8. An Open Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The threads of fate intertwine. One door opens, and another closes. A strange and disjointed dream portrays a terrifying impossibility.

**_“Sometimes life has a cruel sense of humor, giving you the thing you always wanted at the worst time possible.”_ **

―  Lisa Kleypas

* * *

**Chapter 8: An Open Door**

**Konohagakure no Sato - The night of Mito’s wedding**

  
  


The two men left the boisterous courtyard behind, wandering the cobbled main-streets until the noise of the celebration faded into a distant murmur. It had cooled outside once the sun set, the air now holding a slight but not unpleasant chill, and Michi was suddenly grateful for being made to dress in his warm formal-wear. The gentle heaviness of the ensemble gave him ease of mind for some reason, as well; it was not his usual prerogative to run off and chat with strangers, and even though a monk ought not to have caused the faintest trickle of unease, Michi couldn’t help but feel something about Jigen was atypical of most monks. 

  
  


He could sense it, in fact; though it did not necessarily feel like a  _ bad _ kind of deviation, it was indescribable, and this alone was enough for his subconscious to remain somewhat alert. The man was such an excellent conversationalist, however, that Michi simply could not resist the entertainment provided by his company.

  
  


They wound up sitting on a wooden bench in view of the fieldstone walls surrounding the Uchiha compound, and Michi commented that the orange tulips seemed rather out of place and unbefitting of the clan, in his opinion. 

  
  


“Well, the tulip symbolizes deep love, and more specifically, these variegated tulips represent ‘beautiful eyes’,” Jigen said, pointing out the streaks of red streaming from just above the sepals of the flowers. “They say that the sharingan is born out of extreme love - desire so immense as to become indistinguishable from hatred.” 

  
  


Michi laughed. “Oh? Pray tell me, just who are ‘they’ and why have they decided on such a conclusion?”

  
  


“Hmm,” Jigen pursed his lips for a moment before breaking into an impish grin. “I suppose it is but a theory, proposed by the round-table of self-proclaimed scholars and poets that reside in my imagination.”

  
  


“Hmph, I’d hoped for greater candor from a holy man,” Michi retorted, though his tone was squiffy and not at all serious. “I suppose I just do not prefer tulips.” 

  
  


Jigen found great amusement in being referred to as a holy man. “And what would you have planted instead, Uzumaki-san?” 

  
  


“Camellias, without question; a far superior bloom,” Michi stated matter-of-factly. “White, pink, and red varieties, but preferably the majority would be pink.” 

  
  


“Interesting, I thought you might pick something less favorable for the Uchiha’s flowerbeds. A weed, perhaps,” Jigen joked. 

  
  


Realizing his error, Michi hurriedly shook his head to dismiss the notion. “Ah, pardon me - I would never do such a kind service for those inglorious bastards. The camellias would be for my mother, as they are her favorite.”

  
  


“I see. She is in attendance this evening, then?” 

  
  


“No. I’m afraid she is no longer with us.” Michi’s voice fell in volume, the bereavement evident in his words. 

  
  


“Forgive me for my presumption. I am sorry for your loss, Uzumaki-san.”

  
  


Michi nodded, his now much more sober mind floating off to some unseen world. Jigen leaned further back against the bench, regarding the redhead thoughtfully. Then, he reached into the sleeves of his robe and procured a small bottle of shochu. Jigen held out his arm, offering the beverage to the young man beside him. 

  
  


Glancing up in surprise, Michi hesitated - for it was not customary to be offered alcohol by a monk, let alone a stranger - but nonetheless he accepted, seeking permission first before taking a large swig from the container. A sputtering cough erupted from his throat as soon as the liquid went down, eliciting a low chuckle from its distributor. 

  
  


“By the divines,” Michi gasped, his face flushed from the burning ache making its way towards his stomach. “I appreciate the sentiment. However - and not to be rude - this drink is positively foul.”

  
  


“I apologize, I should have warned you,” Jigen said, though he was not at all sorry. “It is distilled by the monks of the Fire Temple monastery.” 

  
  


“One would think it was flavored with their besmirched linens,” Michi remarked. 

  
  


“I can neither confirm nor deny such allegations.”

  
  


Stiffening in shock, Michi turned towards the monk with a look of sheer, existential horror upon his face. “Certainly you jest….forsooth?”

  
  


With a mirthful laugh, Jigen pulled his cowl down and secured it underneath his chin. “I do-” he retrieved the bottle and afforded himself a drink as well “-though it's true I’ve no idea what they put in the stuff. All I do know is that it’s made from a strange yellow crop called ‘corn’.”

  
  


Greatly relieved by this revelation, Michi placed a hand to his chest and let loose a lengthy sigh. He took note of a strange, black, diamond-shaped marking - not unlike his sister’s - on the other man’s chin, but decided not to ask about it yet, lest he come across as being too improper and offend the monk.

  
  


“You’re an apprentice of the hermits, then?” Michi asked. 

  
  


Jigen shook his head. “Not quite. My erstwhile mentor belonged to the group, and for a time I trained within the monastery….but that feels part of another life.” 

  
  


Peering at his unexpected acquaintance, Michi glimpsed a strange emotion in Jigen’s impossibly black eyes as he gazed up at the stars. He detected a hint of melancholy, nostalgia, and even some anger; but strangest of all was the evident homesickness, for traveling monks did not have homes or form such attachments. Michi thought the man to be quite peculiar and mysterious, but above all fascinating. 

  
  


“How old are you, if I may ask?” Michi himself was still a young man at only nineteen, and Jigen  _ appeared  _ to be in his mid to late twenties; however, his words carried years akin to someone much older.

  
  


“Uzumaki-san, you would not believe me if I were to truthfully tell you,” Jigen said, for once without a hint of unseriousness.

  
  


“I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve communed with entities older than the dirt beneath our sandals, and the moon overhead,” Michi hummed. 

  
  


For some reason he felt no qualms about discussing such clan matters with the man, secret as they may be. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or even some unacknowledged motivation. Regardless, Michi figured he’d need to divulge a little information in order to glean any in return. Upon mentioning the moon something flickered in Jigen’s eyes, but it was gone too soon for Michi to try and decipher.

  
  


“Is that so?”

  
  


“Indeed,” Michi said, tipping his head back to admire the constellations. “I am an Onmyouji, a temple sentry of our clan’s Uzushio shrine. We guard the knowledge of the spirits of old, and make certain their powers remain in the obverse - the world in which they belong.” 

  
  


Narrowing his eyes by a small amount, Jigen became very pensive and stilled for a minute, seeming to be considering his next words carefully. His body language gave no indication of hesitation, though, and had not at any point in their conversation; almost as if Jigen were only pretending to show concern, an imitation of how a person would normally behave. Michi, as was becoming the pattern that evening, paid no mind to this apparent shallowness.

  
  


“There is a rumor I heard once, concerning the Uzumaki clan,” Jigen began. “A flippant topic discussed between old, wizened men, in someplace far away from the Shinobi territories. Would you care to speak on the matter, if I were to relay their words to you?”

  
  


The question was mildly alarming to Michi, not because he minded being asked, but because his clan was very meticulous about keeping their private affairs private. So just how had a rumor about them weeded its way through a supposed ‘far away land’? Then again, perhaps there was no truth to the rumor, he thought. 

  
  


“I do not mind at all,” Michi replied. “I should very much like to hear it.”

  
  


Jigen nodded, shifting to cross one leg over the other before he spoke. “I was visiting a synagogue in the capital of an ancient land, far to the south of the desert region. The capital was a magnificent citadel, unlike anything found in this part of the world - I suppose the Kazahana castle in the Land of Snow would be the closest comparison for scale, though even it hardly compares to such splendors as I witnessed. Great temples and kasbahs made from sandstone, limestone, and marble, decorated with archways and vibrant mosaics in perfect symmetry, the streets alive with sprawling bazaars and exotic striped-beasts. Their culture was rich and their lives decadent, the complete opposite of how the Shinobi live. They have this style of kenjutsu that I’ve not seen anywhere else, a completely unique use of spiritual chakra and lyrical choreography, and the swordsmen are called ‘sword singers’.”

  
  


Michi nearly forgot the original question, enraptured by the imagery of such an exotic civilization, and found that he longed to see such things for himself. 

  
  


“Anyhow, I was staying in the main synagogue - similar to a monastery - and convening with their scholars and rabbi to learn about their beliefs and meditation practices. They were discussing their religious doctrine, called the  _ Zohar _ , and explaining different interpretations to me. At one point, the conversation drifted towards the more mystical aspects of their fables, and since I hailed from the lands of the Shinobi, one of the scholars decided to question me about the rumor he’d heard from a nomadic merchant.”

  
  


The night had grown quiet and still around them, though the festivities were not yet over; the outside world had simply fallen victim to the mind’s sensory adaptation, and the prolonged stimulus that was the music and laughter of the reception was silenced in order to pay better attention to the conversation at hand. 

  
  


“He told me that the merchant spoke of an ‘Uzumaki clan’ with strange and otherworldly powers. According to the man, there was an island that had been hidden away by the clan in order to protect an ancient artifact of unfathomable power. He said that the artifact was a magical hammer, which could grant any wish made by the individual who wielded it. I told him I did not know of the island - of a Land of Wishes.”

  
  


A chill ran down Michi’s spine, accompanied by both confusion and foreboding. Impossible as it should have been, the island sounded an awful lot like the shrine island that Kodama inhabited - as in, the spirit connected to the Shikigami mask  _ he himself _ was the guardian of. Perhaps it was the alcohol clouding his judgement and making him more excitable than he ought to be, but despite his reservations and duties as an Onmyouji, Michi desperately wanted to share his unforeseen personal connection to the rumor. What were the odds, he asked himself, that a chance encounter with an odd monk would become so relevant? 

  
  


In his mind, at that moment, it seemed like a signal from the divines; like their meeting that night was no accident, but something fated.

  
  


“I have heard no such tales about a hammer of wishes. However-” Mich paused, allowing another flutter of anxiety to pass “-I believe there is some truth to the rumor. It just so happens that I am personally responsible for a shrine of very similar description.”

  
  


Jigen uncrossed his legs, turning to face Michi with a look of exhilaration in his eyes that should have frightened the Uzumaki. It seemed as if some of Jigen’s indecipherable aura had finally revealed itself, and for the first time that night Michi’s subconscious sensory capabilities whirred to life as he caught a glimpse of the monk’s chakra. Chakra which was seraphic, yet at the same time held a quality of profound darkness; but just before Michi would begin to feel overwhelmed by its presence, the sensation was gone - once again suppressed by its source.

  
  


The monk was likely fully aware of his slip up, but neither man mentioned the experience, and Jigen seemed unperturbed. They sat in silence for several minutes, gazes turned back to the stars, while each contemplated what to say to continue the conversation. 

  
  


“What do you think of all this, Uzumaki-san?” Jigen asked.

  
  


“How do you mean?” Michi wasn’t sure if he was asking about the rumor, or something else.

  
  


“The villages, the shinobi, the clans,” he elaborated. “Perhaps I am speaking out of turn here, but I have the sense that you are not overly fond of these things.”

  
  


In truth, the anger and resentment Michi harbored towards the shinobi clans was not something he had discussed outright with anyone before. Sure, he had hinted at it when talking with Mito, but not once did he explicitly outline his sentiments. He decided to reveal some of his own darkness, just as Jigen had by supposed accident. Michi reached for the neglected bottle of shochu, which had been placed on the ground near their feet. This time he did not cough so ferociously after downing the abhorrent liquid. 

  
  


“The Uzumaki and Senju have been allied for quite some time,” Michi started. “Nearly as long as the wars between the Uchiha and Senju have raged. We were sought out for our healing capabilities, of course, and overtime a bond developed between the clans. At least, that is how everyone pretends it to be.”

  
  


He could feel his rage begin to flame anew, leaking out from his unconscious mind and into his immediate awareness. Michi clenched his fists to stymie the tremors agitating his muscles.

  
  


“For decades, the Senju have hired the most talented among those willing to join them on the battlefield as combat medics. Certain members of our clan possess a highly coveted kekkei genkai: a healing bite which can recover the injuries of any individual, including the Uzumaki who possesses it. However, employing this ability does not come without consequence, and each bite shortens the lifespan of the Uzumaki being bitten.”

  
  


Jigen hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, I have heard of this once before.” 

  
  


“Due to the advantages of such a power, any Uzumaki who ventured into battle were at even greater risk than a common foot soldier, and more liable to be taken prisoner. Those unfortunate enough to find themselves in such a predicament do not survive to see the battle’s end, often used to heal the enemy forces until they are dead and drained of all chakra.”

  
  


“Take it as you will, but such cruelty does not surprise me in the least,” Jigen commented.

  
  


“Indeed. Such is the way of conceited, greedy men. They seek only power, and do not care what price is paid so long as it is paid by someone else,” Michi stated. “Even this marriage, to me, is nothing but a means for them to acquire our abilities, and strengthen their own offspring.”

  
  


“Ah, so this union is the most current source of your disquietude, then?”

  
  


Michi took a moment to swallow another mouthful of the alcohol, ignoring the protests of his stomach and his better judgement. Besides, Jigen did not seem to care about conserving the stuff. 

  
  


“No. It is but a small part of it,” Michi said, his tone now more openly resentful. “My parents were medics during the war before this most recent conflict, when I was nine years old. So, ten years ago. The Uchiha launched a surprise attack on their camp in the dead of night, and many were killed. Among the casualties were Itama Senju, a son of the former Senju Clan Head, and both of my parents - who had been specifically targeted, along with the other medics.”

  
  


Taking a deep breath, Michi tried to fight against the fresh wave of grief battering his senses. He would never forget that day, when Ashina had visited him and Mito in their home to tell them of what had happened. That mother and father would not be coming home. That the Uchiha had slain them like livestock, and they had died servicing the egos of brutish men. Well, those were not Ashina’s words, but that is what Michi had thought about it all. 

  
  


“My mother wanted to travel the world,” Michi said, before Jigen could offer any hollow condolences. Which was a non-issue, because he did not want any. “It was something she dreamed of her whole life.”

  
  


“What stopped her from doing so?” Jigen asked. “If you are aware, that is.”

  
  


“Many things. Raising me and Mito, for one. But more so, she abandoned her dream in favor of clan life. Duty. Obligation to meet the demands of said loyalty. Uzumakis do not leave on their own, it is not something that has ever happened. My sister is the first to immigrate in over a hundred years, but even so, the opportunity was offered to her and not her own idea. In fact, it was offered to me as well.”

  
  


Jigen was silent for a moment. “Did you ever wish to travel, Uzumaki-san?”

  
  


“I have, on occasion, fantasized about pursuing my mother’s dream,” Michi admitted. “To honor her. Perhaps even to avenge her in some way. To just up and leave, and abandon my responsibilities.”

  
  


The idea of forsaking his clan felt unconscionable and thrilling at the same time. It was not something he’d never thought about, however, and recently he had thought of leaving quite often. Michi had always been an academic, and while he enjoyed his work most of the time, he did wish to be able to learn about other cultures, religions, chakra techniques, and especially the sciences - a field of study which was only in its infancy, yet fascinated him like nothing else ever had. Could he really forswear the trust placed in him as an Onmyouji, or even as a member of the community, though? 

  
  


Michi was a bit surprised that his immediate answer was  _ not _ a resounding ‘no’, but something more conflicted in nature. He wondered what would happen if he were to disappear, and how Mito might feel. Certainly he loved his dear sister, but unlike himself who had no other friends, Mito did have people to rely on. She had a family now. 

  
  


His eyes flickered down and met with the monk’s large black irises, which were steeped in a kind of seriousness and sincerity Michi had not yet witnessed from the man. Jigen opened his mouth to speak. 

  
  


“Would you like to?”

  
  
  


* * *

**Present - Konohagakure**

  
  


Death. Arata could not stop thinking about death, as of late; something which was entirely her own fault, due to her insistence upon learning the kage bunshin technique. She thought about it when she conversed with others, when she looked up at the sky, when she laid awake in her bed. She thought about it now, staring at a piece of pork as it gradually browned, sizzling and popping over the heat of the coals that burned beneath the griddle. She’d especially thought about death after disposing of the hundreds of copies of herself that she made ‘for fun, to test the limits of her abilities’. 

Dying was not some foreign or abstract concept to her, even before learning the technique - after all, she had died on her first day in the village. So, it wasn’t the shadow clones’ collective memories of her  _ own _ countless deaths that had Arata so disturbed; rather, it was the metaphysical implications of such an experience. The fleeting impermanence of life, of the unique and precious individuals she’d met, and how starkly it contrasted to her own lack of mortality. All things that she was previously aware of, but hadn’t  _ actually _ thought about in-depth.

Now that she was thinking about it, however, Arata was very perturbed by the prospect of any of these people dying on her watch. Especially considering that while her seal was intact, she wouldn’t be able to resurrect them if they  _ did _ die. She wondered if, in such an event, she would break the seal and risk the whole of humanity turning against her in order to save one or a few of them. It was unclear to her whether or not such an act would be worthwhile. Besides, she couldn’t resurrect people she fancied forever; eventually they would have to grow old and die. Humans lived very short lives compared to her own kin.

The truth that Aratashiki would out-live them all was inevitable; that she would be alone in her youth while everyone else expired from age. 

Somewhere outside of Arata’s inner world, Sakura had become upset over something, and was now - along with her fist - making a beeline for the area of the restaurant where their male companions were gathered. Perhaps she was still upset about them ‘crashing their girls’ night’, Arata thought, watching the homicidal kunoichi close-in on her targets. 

Before the pink-haired ballistic missile could make contact with it’s terrified would-be victims, however, the door to the restaurant flew open, and a green-clothed arm yanked Sakura backwards by the waist. Everyone exchanged concerned glances as they watched a very drunk Tsunade stumble around, pulling her student along with her before pushing Sakura back into the seat next to Ino. Shizune took up a position at the head of the table, apologizing for their intrusion while reaching for a pork jowl to shove into her mouth. 

"What's going on here?" Tsunade asked, plopping herself down next to Arata.

"Oh, we were just having a girls get-together," Tenten replied. 

"Well then, it's a good thing I showed up!"

"But Tsunade-sama, you're not really a girl anymore," Sakura pointed out. She was still very much pissed-off about whatever it was, but would have to punish the guys some other time.

"What, is it because of my chest?" Tsunade asked, groping her breasts for emphasis. 

Hinata and Ino laughed, assuring her that it was  _ not _ because of her legendary chest. Tsunade was unphased by the subtle insult, and reached for the sake to pour herself a generous drink.

"So, what's happening? Are you talking about your love lives?" 

"No, but since everyone here except for Tenten is single, maybe we should be," Ino sighed. 

"Hey, I told you all that Lee and I aren't a couple! We're just friends," Tenten stated defensively. 

"Yeah, and I'm an immortal space-alien disguised as a human who came to earth in search of my cousin, and ended up impulsively sealing away my powers so I could live the normal life my father denied me in retaliation for my mother flinging herself into a black hole after giving birth to me," Arata commented, making sure to sound sarcastic. 

That was oddly specific, the others thought; but they were too tipsy to care about her weird ramblings, and boy drama was way more important. Tsunade shot Arata a look, but whatever intention lied in doing so was not effectively communicated by the drunken hokage.

"You're not one to talk, Arata!"

"Yeah," Hinata added, "the tension between you and Neji is practically a visible cloud of stinking pheromones. I could see it a kilometer away even without the Byakugan."

So far, everyone seemed to be reacting well to Hinata’s suddenly emboldened personality; in fact, her willingness to drink sake in public had been more shocking to the other women than her conspicuous paradigm shift. Arata playfully swatted Hinata while the rest of the table giggled in agreement. Tsunade, however, was not going to let her off so easily. 

"Arata, I'm surprised! The way you acted when you got here - well, I thought you would have killed poor Neji by now," Tsunade said, a little  _ too _ loudly.

"Uh, lady Tsunade, perhaps you should keep your voice-" Shizune tried to intervene while Arata's face started to heat up.

"Maybe you two are star-crossed lovers. Ahh, how romantic!" Tsunade squealed, resting her chin in her hand with a far-away look in her eyes. 

"It isn't like that, Tsunade-sama," Arata forced out through gritted teeth. “Besides, ours is not a star you want to cross paths with,” she added in a murmur to herself.

The Hokage smiled mischievously and chuckled, mercifully dropping the subject in favor of the next item on her mind's agenda. Reaching behind her back, she pulled a bunch of pink straws out of thin air - an action that baffled the others, who questioned where she’d been hiding them - and thrust them into the other women's faces. 

“We’re going to play the Princess Game!”

Shizune ripped the straws out of Tsunade’s hands and yanked her upright by the collar of her coat. 

“We most  _ certainly _ are not, Lady Tsunade. We are going back to work!” 

“Shizune, can she even work when she’s that drunk?” Sakura asked, incredulous. 

Hearing her comment, Tsunade let out a loud laugh. “Can I even work when I’m  _ sober?”  _

Shizune shot the girls an apologetic look after slapping a hand over the unruly Hokage’s mouth. She started dragging the older woman towards the door, who grumbled and complained the entire way, only halting her verbal remonstrances to wave goodbye to the bemused table of girls. 

“That was...interesting,” Ino finally spoke, once Tsunade and her assistant were outside.

Sakura face-palmed. “I swear she's a great sensei! She just happens to be a heavy drinker as well…”

Arata, whose face was gradually returning to its usual color, breathed out a sigh of relief. What was with everyone’s incessant need to pin her and Neji together, she wondered. At times, it almost felt as if her life was being transposed with scenes from a bad romantic comedy. Sure, Neji was attractive, and sure, she teasingly flirted with him every now and then, but that didn’t mean she actually wanted a non-platonic relationship with the man. Arata had no interest in being tied down, nor did she feel the need to be. There were far more important things for her to do than become someone’s intergalactic love-interest. Not that she had any clue about real-world romance, anyway.

Tenten yawned, and the kunoichi followed suit, unanimously deciding to call it a night. The guys seemed to have had the same idea, and were loudly making their way outside of the restaurant. Hinata stood up first, a look of sheer determination on her face as she gazed down at her friends. 

“This is it, ladies. I’m going to do it. I’m going to tell Naruto how I feel.”

They all whooped and hollered in encouragement, excitedly following the energized woman out into the night to witness her confession. The men were standing around while arguing with Kiba and Shikamaru, who insisted upon having an after-party. 

“C’mon Shikamaru, I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow, you know,” Naruto complained.

“Noon isn’t early, dumbass,” Shikamaru retorted. “Try waking up at 10 a.m. every day, then come talk to me.”

“Yeah,” Kiba added, “I have to wake up at 9:30 to feed the dogs. Even on the weekends!”

Neji scoffed. “You’re all children. My team is up at the crack of dawn for training every-”

“Ah, there it is,” Shino sighed. He shoved a hand into his pocket, digging around for a moment before begrudgingly handing Choji several crumpled bills. “You win this time - only took him 30 seconds to start one-upping.”

“What the hell, Shino, I’m not a one-upper!” Kiba exclaimed. 

“Pipe down, it wasn’t about you.”

The argument was interrupted when Hinata marched up to the group and grabbed Naruto’s shoulder, spinning him around to face her. She faltered for a moment, but ultimately steeled her nerves, and fixed the knuckle-headed ninja with an intense gaze. 

“Naruto...I need to talk to you about something,” Hinata said.

“Okay, sure thing,” Naruto said, oblivious as ever. “Uh, you wanna just walk and talk?”

Hinata nodded, and Naruto looked back over his shoulder to wave at his group. “Later guys!”

“Good luck, Naruto,” Sai called out. “Remember, it's not about the size of-”

He was abruptly cut off by Sakura, who’d finally gotten the chance to put her fist to flesh. 

Arata watched the pair disappear down the dimly lit street, an odd feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. She was happy for her friend, and hoped they would be good together - assuming Naruto accepted her confession - but for some reason, Arata couldn’t shake the inclination that there was something uncanny about the situation. About Naruto and Hinata, that is; it was too perfect, so much so that she almost sensed a sort of obligation behind their bond once she made an intentional effort to read their emotions. The compulsion wasn’t specific to either party, either. But alas, she knew that Hinata truly did care for Naruto, so Arata chalked up the weirdness to her own personal biases and lack of knowledge regarding any kind of romantic feelings or etiquette. 

Rather than reading further into a situation that was none of her business - something she’d had an awful habit of doing lately - Arata dismissed her thoughts entirely. She said her goodbyes to the group, declining to attend the ‘after party’, and walked back to the Hyuga compound alongside Neji. He murmured something about suspecting that Naruto wouldn’t be able to love Hinata the way that she wanted him to, but Arata only shrugged and reiterated aloud that it was none of their business. However, it was more so an effort to convince herself than it was to convince Neji. 

* * *

  
  
  


The streetlamps hummed quietly as Naruto and Hinata walked down the empty street. Naruto could tell that Hinata was nervous about something, though he wasn’t sure what. Deciding to give her some time to think on whatever it was, Naruto shoved his hands into his pockets and distracted himself by trying to count the gnats swarming one of the lampposts up ahead. It had always fascinated him, how the bugs seemed to be addicted to any source of light - suffocating them within a cloud of chitin-armored bodies - and he wondered  _ why _ it was so. What about the light drew them in so vigorously, was it warmth? Energy? Fear of the dark?

He would have to ask Shino about it sometime, Naruto thought. But he would probably never remember to. 

“I know you’ve been really busy since Pain attacked the village,” Hinata said, jolting him out of his thoughts. “So we haven’t gotten the chance to talk about what happened.”

Naruto wracked his brain, trying to remember if there was anything he had promised to discuss with her. “Oh, right. No worries! We can totally talk about that now, you know,” he said, laughing to hide the fact that he had no fucking idea what ‘that’ was referring to. “Let’s talk about it!”

“You...already forgot, didn’t you,” Hinata sighed.

“What? Of course not,” Naruto stammered. “I’ll remember as soon as you tell me-”

“I love you, Naruto.”

His feet halted, frozen in shock as realization dawned on him. Hinata had confessed to him during the attack, when she’d put her life on the line to try and save him -  _ that _ was what she wanted to talk about. Because Naruto hadn’t ever addressed her words. They’d literally slipped to the back of his mind. Oh god, he thought, I’m such an asshole. What had he ever even done to deserve those affections from her anyways? He wondered. 

“Oh.” 

“I want us to be together,” she continued, “but you never responded to what I said that day. I just- I want to know if I’m wasting my time.”

Feeling a little trapped, Naruto said the first thing that came to mind that could stall the conversation. “But why? Why do you think you...love me and stuff, Hinata?”

They had both stopped just out of the light’s reach, standing side-by-side in the shadows. Hinata turned to face him, and her pale lavender eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight. When Naruto searched them for any sign of questioning or doubt, he found none. It dawned on him then that Hinata was the first person to say that they loved him, in any aspect of the word. 

“Because you stood up for me when no one else ever had. You always keep trying no matter how difficult things get, and you don’t let imperfections get in your way. You don’t let other people tell you how to feel or act, especially when it goes against what you know is right. You care about everyone, even those who don’t afford you the same level of grace. You never give up and you never go back on your word,” Hinata said in a stable voice, full of a confidence he didn’t know she possessed. 

“Whenever I’m around you, Naruto, I want to be better. I  _ am _ better, because of you, and so...I want to be by your side, for as long as I can be. I want to give you the love you deserve, and to be someone you can rely on, too, instead of always having to rely on yourself.” 

“Hinata…” Naruto trailed off, unsure of how to respond. He didn’t even know how  _ he _ felt - certainty he cared deeply for Hinata, and he’d definitely noticed how pretty she was. But Naruto hadn’t really had time to think about relationships that weren’t, well, platonic. It just wasn’t on his radar, and hadn’t been for several years. 

Naruto wasn’t sure that he would be able to recognize romantic love if he  _ did _ feel it, anyways. Back when they were kids, he’d been infatuated with Sakura, but it was just that: infatuation. That much he knew for sure. The way he felt about Hinata as a  _ woman _ was different from how he felt towards Sakura, then and now, but Naruto still couldn’t call it love. Attraction, maybe. 

Thinking about it all was giving him a headache. 

“Listen, I don’t expect you to feel the same way. Not right now, at least,” Hinata whispered. “But I hope you’re willing to give me a chance.”

Was this how it happened? Naruto wanted to ask; is this what it was like to start a relationship? Did people just...go for it, like placing a bet in a game of poker? That seemed like a weird strategy to him, and it started to make sense why Ino and Kiba complained so often about dating. But Naruto couldn’t think of an alternative, or anything that he stood to lose by agreeing to be in a relationship with her. It made sense for them to end up together; he couldn’t reasonably imagine anyone else at the moment, when he thought about it. 

Maybe that’s how things are supposed to be, Naruto thought. You’re supposed to settle down with whoever makes sense, with the most practical option. That must be the key to starting a family or whatever. Not that they’d be doing that just yet, though; maybe he was getting a little bit ahead of himself there. 

“Yeah, okay,” Naruto said, after a moment of silence.

Hesitantly, he shifted his gaze to meet Hinata’s, facing his body towards her as well. Naruto saw her eyes light up with surprise and excitement when he agreed, which made him feel sort of bad for not expressing better the fact that he did care about her. Hinata’s lips parted slightly as if she were going to say something, but she never did. Naruto didn’t know what they were supposed to do now; in Icha Icha, this was usually the part where the couple was supposed to kiss. 

He hadn’t ever kissed anyone. Well, anyone other than Sasuke - which Naruto  _ did _ count as a kiss, secretly. If he could master the rasengan and defeat highly-skilled enemies, then surely he could figure out how to kiss someone too, Naruto thought. And so, he went for it.

At first, Hinata jumped in shock; but she didn’t pull away, and eventually they both relaxed enough to properly get into it. Naruto found the sensation to be just as strange as he remembered, but not altogether unpleasant. In fact, with each passing second it was becoming  _ more _ enjoyable, and after several long moments they had broken apart to stare at each other breathlessly. 

Perhaps this was something he could get used to. After all, his late sensei had certainly implied that relationships carried many great  _ physical _ benefits, at the very least. 

Hinata was redder than a tomato, but she hadn’t passed out or anything like Naruto half-expected her to. “Um, Naruto, can I-” her voice caught in her throat for a second, a hint of that old nervousness peeping through “-stay with you tonight? Before you have to leave tomorrow…”

Man, he thought, Hinata was full of surprises. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, then y-”

“It is.”

Naruto blinked a few times, utterly flabbergasted. Part of him felt that it was too much too fast, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to refuse the potential outcomes of her spending the night. So he gave Hinata his best smile, grabbed her hand, and acted as normal and gentlemanly as was possible for the man to during their journey back to his apartment. 

  
  


* * *

_ Aratashiki pushed herself up off of the ground. Her limbs were sore, dried streaks of blood from already healed cuts littering her pale skin. A heavy fog hung over her mind, as if her neurons were over-saturated with melatonin. Puffs of air escaped her lips in ragged, uneven breaths, crystallizing as soon as they made contact with the open air. Something was off. The temperature was undoubtedly high, she could sense the intense vibrations of the molecules in the air, buzzing with an extreme amount of kinetic energy. But...there were too few of them. It was as if the troposphere had been stretched thin, the majority of the particulate matter sucked out of it. There were simply too few molecules to transfer any of the thermal energy to her skin. If she’d possessed human biology, she would have already become hypothermic. _

_ Her eyes gradually focused on her surroundings. The scene around her was pure chaos. Cyan chakra - her own chakra - coated the people near her like a protective blanket, except she struggled to make out who exactly it was that she was cloaking. It was like her brain refused to acknowledge their identities, even while clearly seeing their faces. Eventually she noticed that it was raining. No, this wasn’t rain. It was a torrential downpour, but of what? Something hard but lacking in tensile strength, as it splintered upon impact with the ground.  _

_ Wood, it was raining wood. Why? She couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening. Her eyes were suddenly drawn to a hunched over figure on the ground. Someone familiar, someone hurt, their chakra had been dangerously depleted...who was it? Frustrated, she tried to take a step towards them, and found that she was now unable to move. Only her eyes were allowed to wander. She watched as the...material continued to pour down, staking into the dirt whenever it didn’t shatter on impact. Everyone seemed to be fighting them off, trying not to get hit. _

_ Still watching the individual on the ground, her eyes began to track the trajectory of two much larger stakes of wood in her peripheral field of view, instantaneously calculating their point of impact, which was the injured person. They were going to die, undoubtedly; the stakes would impale them. Rip them apart. She struggled violently against whatever was preventing her movements, but to no avail. The tenketsu points all throughout her body were burning white hot, her chakra fighting for release. Release that wasn’t possible, for some unknown reason. All she could do was watch as someone she was certain was a friend met their untimely end.  _

_ Time was moving in slow motion, her chest already tightening in anticipation of the impact. It was as if the universe was purposefully stretching out this moment, prolonging it to try and torture her. A second figure in a long, black cloak appeared in the blink of an eye, positioned behind the crumpled body to block the aerial attack. The coil in her chest tightened, she knew this person too. They stood with their arms thrust out protectively to either side like a shield. A human shield, a shield made of meat that was moments from being skewered. The cloaked individual attempted to perform some kind of jutsu - evidenced by a brief flicker of what must have been a protective barrier - before gasping in frustration and clawing at their eyes. _

_ At the very last second, a third figure appeared out of nowhere, behind the second and mimicking their stance with a much taller, longer physique. Something flashed in her mind then, some emotion so intense that it nearly fried her neural pathways and obliterated the white matter woven into the connective tissue. In that instance she knew that she cared immensely for the unidentified persons in front of her. Loved ones. Family, but not by blood. Finally, it happened; her worst fear, an inevitable outcome.  _

_ No amount of dreamworld distortion could prevent Aratashiki from recognizing the one who stood before her now. Violence and hatred erupted like a wildfire in her veins, her mind’s eye thrashing madly in a vain attempt to coerce her body into compliance with the desired movements. A pair of cold gazes met her own, monstrous and teeming with amusement at the suffering they caused. Seeing  _ him  _ filled her with an agonizing sense of loss that she could not comprehend, knowing that it could not be grief for  _ him _. Never. But the one at his side was screened from her view, present but indistinguishable. _

**What have you become** _ , she wanted to scream,  _ **what have you taken?**

_ The wooden projectiles hit the target in their path. She watched as it tore through their flesh like it was nothing, piercing their back and exiting through the chest, bringing with it bits and pieces of their destroyed entrails. Blood and tissue covered the sharp points sticking out of their upper body, sliding off and falling onto the ground and the back of the smaller figure like in a shower of gore. Her vocal cords strained ferociously against her paralysis, an unbearable tightness behind her sternum exploding in an agonizing shock wave. Tears were pouring from her bloodshot eyes. She couldn’t think, only able to focus on the ruined person in front of her.  _

_ By some miracle they were still standing, but that didn’t last. They collapsed in a heap, ragged breaths tearing from their lips as their lungs choked around the sticks. The color from their face was nonexistent, drained along with the blood pouring from the wound and gurgling in their throat. They didn’t have long. The dying person’s lips were moving, she was desperate to hear their words. Both listeners were sobbing. Loud, anguished, almost inhuman sounds. This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t supposed to happen.  _ He  _ didn’t have powers like this, not before. _

_ Aratashiki tried to warn the cloaked figure. She could not.  _ He  _ cut them down with swift precision and a ferocious laugh before doing the same to the friend who’d initially needed protection.  _

**I must thank you for sacrificing your child - I’ll be sure to give the village your regards before we slaughter the rest of you vulgar creatures.**

_ A final, shaky breath squeezed out of the last one of the trio, and then all three were still. Cold, lifeless corpses. Reduced from a living being to a pile of meat and bone in less than a minute. An entire existence ended just like that. Powerful combatants defeated by  _ him _ like they were nothing. Her gaze fixated upon their eyes, wide open and sightless, staring up at the sky. The face of death on each of them, peering into the infinite nothingness that awaited the arrival of their souls.  _

_ The obscured individual next to  _ him  _ suddenly jumped to the forefront of her awareness.  _ **I could not have imagined doing this back then** _ , they said, and Aratashiki felt the words on her tongue. They were her own words, spoken by a version of herself that should not have been possible. Someone older and detached from feeling. _

_ There was no sound, no sensation, nothing existed beyond her silent screams echoing mutely within an endless pit of despair and devastation. Horror. Dimensional space collapsed into one flat line of melancholia. The overwhelming, crushing reality of the situation made its presence known. Nothing else did, or ever would matter again. She had been corrupted. When? How? _

He  _ smiled at her - the other her - and she watched her lips stretch to return the sentiment.  _

**You’ve made the right decision, sister; do not fret. They are better off this way.**

**Aiat** ,  _ she responded, meeting eyes with herself. _

_ She was just like them.  _

Aratashiki woke up screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a roller coaster, I'm sure. Jigen is a sociopath, and poor Michi is too drunk to notice. Oh, the things that will become of him...
> 
> I hope I portrayed the, ah, weirdness of NaruHina well. It's just the set up, of course, but I meant it when I said I wanted to explore a more realistic version of the canon relationships. However, don't think that it will ALL be bad - their relationship isn't going to be completely horrible or anything, I'm simply acknowledging certain aspects of it/the fact that it isn't all sunshine and rainbows. NO relationships, even the great ones, are perfect. 
> 
> And the dream...no, it does not make sense. It is incoherent and jumbled and uncertain. Maybe it's an allusion to certain individual fates, or a potential outcome of some kind, or merely a nightmare. Who knows? (well, ok, I know in what ways it is/is not relevant. But that's a given.)
> 
> Side note: I once again apologize for the slow updates. Not to over share, but I'm dealing with an emotionally abusive home environment - and no, I am not able to just leave - along with being in college full-time. Stress is not very conducive to creativity, and I'm simply mentally exhausted most days. I refuse to let that ruin writing for me, but admittedly it is still going to slow me down for the time being. So bear with me. Also, no, the Otsutsuki are not a projection of my family. LOL. I fuckin wish. They might actually be easier to deal with.


End file.
